


The Little Hobbit Who Could

by When



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-11-30 13:53:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11464941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/When/pseuds/When
Summary: The minute she entered the room a steady hush began to fall as all twelve Dwarves, Gandalf, and her brother turned to look at her.  She squared her shoulders and eyed them each appraisingly.“My name is Merriadonna Bagggins, welcome to Bag End, the home of my family since the start of the Fourth Age.  I regret that I wasn’t here to greet you but I’m afraid my brother and I were not aware we were expecting guests this evening.”I own nothing but my OC, Merri





	1. Chapter 1

The Shire, most specifically Hobbiton was a quiet town filled with quiet residents who prided themselves on being entirely normal- never doing anything unexpected. The day our story began seemed like any other, the people of Hobbiton went about their daily business: farming, gardening, trading, sitting on their stoops and chatting amiably with the neighbors, all in all a completely ordinary and expected day. However, if you were to travel approximately a mile into Hobbiton and follow a lightly used path past the bright green door at the top of the hill, deep into the Overhill forests you would find a young Hobbit lass. This lass had vibrant ash brown hair which was currently pulled back in a most unrefined fashion, and was indeed dressed in a most unexpected style of dress- a tunic and breeches! In her hands was a bow knocked with an arrow that she was aiming at a target through the trees past several other targets closer in range and already filled with arrows.   
With a slow breath out she released the arrow from between her fingertips and watched it whistle past the terrain in front of her. The arrow sunk into the center mass of her target with a dull thud, signifying her successes in accuracy and strength. She lowered her bow and was preparing to collect her arrows when the sound of brush rustling behind her caught her attention. She whirled around on the balls of her feet another arrow knocked and aimed in the direction where the sound originated. When her eyes caught up to her actions she found herself to be pointing her arrow (albeit slightly off-center) at a familiar face.   
A man stood in front of her, almost double her height wearing robes of all gray and a matching hat and carrying a walking stick, he had a long gray beard to match the rest of his dress and possessed a wrinkled face with a startled yet amused expression on his face. Despite his old age there seemed to be a certain power and youthfulness within him, as well as a sense of mischief, all of which our young Hobbit lass could see in his blue-gray eyes. Blue met honey and recognition flashed across the latter set.  
“Gandalf, by the turning of the tides is that you?” The hobbit smiled greatly, dropping her weapon and racing forward to embrace the old man in front of her.  
He caught her with an ‘oomph’, chuckling lightly, and crouching to wrap his arms around her as well. The old man stood at a least twice her height, since hobbits are small folk and she reached 3’6’’ on a day when the Valar treated her favorably. However, neither seemed to mind the height difference amid their reunion.  
“My dear Merriadonna I have rarely been happier to see another being in all of Middle Earth. Your joy warms my heart, you have not a notion of the trials and tribulations I have endured these past months.” Gandalf smiled down at her with his hands on her shoulders.  
“Please, do share. Allow me to alleviate some of your woes with a sympathetic ear,” Merriadonna smiled back, placing a hand over his.  
“Well, it all started two years ago when I came across an old friend, a Dwarf King struggling to unite his people under a new mountain. Though his story begins long before that…”


	2. Chapter 2

“…So I met with the King to inform him of some interesting information I had come across in my extensive travels, information about the dragon, about how it hadn’t been seen in a great many years, and how it might be time for him to reclaim his home again.” Gandalf finished his tale with a sigh that sounded equal parts exasperated as it did despondent. Merriadonna nodded her head in understanding and sympathy, both for Gandalf and for the Dwarves of Erebor. She remembered the pain of losing her parents and could not think what it would be like if she and her brother were left homeless as well.  


“That sounds like quite the tale, please Gandalf, feel free to make your way to the Baggins family home, my brother should be there to welcome you. I need to pick up tonight’s supper so I’m afraid I must leave you now- assuming you remember the way?” Merriadonna looked up at him, her brow furrowed and her nose scrunched in concern, the way she does when her brother injures himself cooking or when she can’t quite hit the target she’d aimed for.  


“I assure you, Bilbo and I will help in whatever way we can. Simply tell him I’ve sent you and you will see the full hospitality of the Baggins family.” She smiled again, her nose smoothing, though her brow remained furrowed now in concentration.  


“Yes my dear, I look forward to seeing your brother again and enjoying the company of hobbits once more.” With a slight bow and a knowing smile, Gandalf continued down the path leading to Bag End.  


Merriadonna continued down a different path leading parallel to the path towards Bag End. This road led into Hobbiton proper. She began making her way around town, stopping in to pick up the meat and fish, the herbs and vegetables, even to the small armory, most often used for sharpening gardening tools, to pick up the remainder of her arrows and a small knife that had been in the Took family since they fought against the Witch King of Angmar in the beginning of the Third Age. By the time she had finished her errands, including all the pleasantries and small talk required of a hobbit of the Shire, the sun was beginning to set and she knew her brother and their guest would be waiting.


	3. Chapter 3

When she arrived back home at Bag End Merriadonna was surprised. The first entirely unexpected occurrence was the appearance of her smial from afar. She could hear strange noises coming from inside and the candles were lit in every room. Inside she saw not the shadows of Bilbo and Gandalf, but of several people she didn’t recognize. 

The second abnormal thing was the way her brother greeted her at the door. She had simply knocked, three concise times at a fair volume to be heard over the din inside while, she balanced her groceries in her other arm. She heard what sounded almost like stomping coming closer to the door at a hurried pace, except, her brother never stomped. Bilbo Baggins was the picture of what a hobbit should be- kind, generous, clever, none of these traits accompanied stomping to the door to greet his beloved little sister. And certainly his personality did not include his greeting.  


“I swear! Whoever is at my door now is not welcomed here! Not now and not ever. Unless you have come to collect these unruly Dwarves from my home, please go. away.” Bilbo shouted from the other side of the bright green door.  


Merriadonna blinked once. Twice. Three times before her brother’s words registered in her mind. Her brother hadn’t raised his voice since they were fauntlings, and certainly not at her. A frown creased her face, brows furrowed, and nose scrunched in a similar expression from her conversation with Gandalf.  


“Bilbo Baggins,” she thundered back, “what have I done to warrant such a tone? I ask that you do open this door immediately! My hands are full and I have spent the better part of an afternoon collecting our supper. I even missed dinner! So if you’ll please-” she was cut off by the door abruptly opening.  


Her slight anger dissipated at the utterly bedraggled expression on her brother’s face. His immaculate clothing was now rumpled, his brows were creased and he was breathing heavily. Overall, an unusual and unexpected sight. Her expression darkened and she held up a hand to prevent his apology.  


“Explain.” Was the only word that came out of her mouth.  


“Oh Merri,” moaned Bilbo, heaving a sigh of long suffering he ushered her into their home, checking the path behind her before shutting the door as quickly as he could and launching into his tale.  


Once she felt as though she had a firm grasp of the situation she let her breath huff out of her and spark of anger and determination to fill her being. She requested that Bilbo take the groceries in to the back kitchen while she went to change into something more suitable for a woman of repute, such as herself, after all they had company over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these first few chapters are short! I wanted to get a feel for how the story would flow and decide a couple of plot points later on. Starting with the next one the chapters will be longer. I welcome any feedback or anyone who just wants to say hi. Please leave a comment or kudos!  
> Thanks,  
> When


	4. Chapter 4

Fully changed into the dress she wore when they had the Sackville-Baggins’ over, something worn to impress guests as a hostess- a skill her mother left her, Merriadonna Baggins left her room to begin the defense of her brother and their home. She made her way down the hall to the dining room, where the noise was loudest, with her head held high and a spring in her step. The minute she entered the room a steady hush began to fall as all twelve Dwarves, Gandalf, and her brother turned to look at her. She squared her shoulders and eyed them each appraisingly.  
“My name is Merriadonna Bagggins, welcome to Bag End, the home of my family since the start of the Fourth Age. I regret that I wasn’t here to greet you but I’m afraid my brother and I were not aware we were expecting guests this evening.” Mother would be proud, she thought to herself.

She continued to look around the room, making sure her greeting had the desired effect. She established herself as Lady of the House, and someone to be respected, she addressed the fact that they were guests in their home and should, by rules of propriety, treat it better, stated that herself and Bilbo were siblings and not married to avoid an awkward accident later on, and she made sure to stare pointedly at the sheepish old man in the corner who was the instigator of her brother’s suffering.

“Please,” a dazzling smile and sharp gaze traveled around the room “introduce yourselves.” A pointed statement that highlighted their need to impress her.

“Dwalin. Balin. Bifur. Bofur. Bombur. Nori. Dori. Ori. Gloin. Oin. Kili. Fili,” They all stood as they stated their names, when they arrived at the last dwarf they looked to him, and bowed in unison with a chorus of, “at your service,” a few even threw in some “m’ladys’” at the end for good measure.

She gave a curt nod, looking to her brother to see if he was suitably calmer. When she was satisfied that his breathing was steadier, she fixed Gandalf with the look she reserved for when she saw her brother spending too much time reading and not enough time exploring. She looked back at the dwarves and with a charming smile and with a wave of her hand directed them to sit.

“It is a pleasure to meet all of you. If you require anything further please ask my brother or myself for assistance. We wouldn’t want any accidents, yes?” She raised an eyebrow and they each mumbled their consent. The word accident she knew they assumed meant breaking or spilling something in her home, however, she knew the word accident to mean what she would do to someone who made such a mistake. With a satisfied nod of her head she made a beeline for Gandalf and Bilbo who were whisper yelling in the hall.

“What’s the matter? I’m surrounded by dwarves. What are they doing here?” Bilbo huffed.

“Oh, they’re quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them.” Gandalf responded merrily, smiling at some of the dwarves over his shoulder seeming to all the world oblivious to the disaster the dwarves were causing at the expense of Bilbo’s well-being.

“I don’t want to get used to them. The state of my kitchen! There’s mud trod into the carpet, they’ve pillaged the pantry. I’m not even going to tell you what they’ve done in the bathroom; they’ve all but destroyed the plumbing. I don’t understand what they’re doing in my house!” Bilbo was as close to shouting now as he had probably ever been in his life.

Merri quickly made her way to her brother’s side, resting a hand on his shoulder in what she hoped was reassurance. It seemed like Gandalf would answer until a small cough followed by a timid voice piped up from behind the trio.

“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?” The youngest of the dwarves looked at the three.

Merri briefly recalled his name being that of the Ri family. She smiled and was about to respond, thrilled that he was listening and asking for help when the blond dwarf ending with a Li sound spoke first.

“Here you go, Ori, give it to me.” He stretched out a hand for the plate with a smile towards Ori (so that’s his name!) before meeting her eyes with a mischievous wink and tossing the plate over his shoulder toward the dark-haired Li.

Merri felt her eyes widen and could hear her brother practically having a conniption beside her. She let her hand fall from his shoulder and allowed her mouth to fall slack as she watched the scene in her home play out.

Fili took the plate from Ori and threw it to Kili (that’s three names down!), who then threw it behind his back to Bifur, who had at some point made his way to the sink in the kitchen. Bifur caught it behind his back, without even looking. Kili, Fili, and the other dwarves began throwing the plates, bowls, and utensils to each other, eventually throwing them to the sink to be washed. As dishware flies, Gandalf ducks to avoid getting hit. Merri had stopped panicking about halfway through the display when she realized the dwarves had clearly done this many a time and seemed well practiced enough to avoid a catastrophe. Her brother, on the other hand, held no such faith.

“Excuse me, that’s my mother’s West Farthing crockery, it’s over a hundred years old!” Bilbo was in a state of pure distress.

She had rarely seen him like this and although she was less than concerned about their dishware in the hands of the dwarves, she knew each item held a special place in Bilbo’s heart. It was upsetting her more to see her brother in such a state than it was to see her home in the organized chaos that had taken over. Just as she was about to speak up, the dwarves at the table began rhythmically drumming on the surface with utensils and their fists.

“And can¬can you not do that? You’ll blunt them!” Bilbo’s eyes bulged out of his head at the sight while Merri became entranced in the melody they were building.

“Ooh, dy’hear that, lads? He says we’ll blunt the knives.” The dwarf with the big hat and a name ending in Ur crowed catching the attention of the rest of the dwarves and earning a bubble of laughter. Even Merri found herself suppressing a giggle when she saw the affronted look on Bilbo’s face.  
Kili, the dark-haired Li brother, begins singing and the other dwarves steadily join him as they continue throwing the dishware to a tune they seemed to create from nowhere.

“Blunt the knives, bend the forks  
Smash the bottles and burn the corks  
Chip the glasses and crack the plates  
That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!  
Cut the cloth and tread on the fat  
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat  
Pour the milk on the pantry floor  
Splash the wine on every door  
Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl  
Pound them up with a thumping pole  
When you’ve finished, if any are whole  
Send them down the hall to roll  
That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!”

Bilbo huffs up in anger and begins to make his way to the kitchen, only to find all the dishes stacked neatly and cleanly. At his expression of astonishment, confusion, and still anger, Merri could no longer hold in her laughter. She honestly tried her best not to, she didn’t like laughing at his expense (unless of course she was the one to cause his misery) but with an undignified snort the giggling began. The dwarves took one look at her and began to roar with laughter as well. Some curling in on themselves and others banged on the table with their fists. Fili and Kili were leaning on each other but eventually they gave in and fell on top of each other only making the dwarves and Gandalf laugh harder.

“Oh lighten up Bilbo! At least the dishes are clean and nothing is broken!” She grinned at her brother, wiping tears from her eyes.

He shot her a withering look before cracking a small smile. She gave him a gentle nudge with her elbow grinning wider when suddenly, there sounded three loud knocks on the door. Everyone falls silent staring at the door with solemnity and reverence.

“He is here.” Gandalf stated, sounding for all the world like Mandos * himself was waiting on the other side.

Bilbo steps forward to open the door with Merri by his side. Whoever was on the other side must be incredibly important if the rowdy group of dwarves she was beginning to grow accustomed to had taken such a serious tone at just a knock. Even Gandalf seemed to hold high respect for this person, perhaps this is the Dwarf King he had mentioned what felt now like days ago. When the door swung open a figure filled their entire porch. Merri hadn’t even realized it had begun to rain. The dwarf standing in their threshold had to be the King Gandalf mentioned, there was no way this man was at all ordinary, she understood the sense of reverence the other dwarves expressed in an instant. 

Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain son of Thror, King Under the Mountain, he was more than she expected from Gandalf’s tale. She expected him to seem less royal somehow, like the years of exile would have dulled his presence in some way. And yet as he entered her home she found that there was no doubt as to who he was and who he was destined to become. It would take more than dragonfire and decades of hardship and loss to make this man seem like any less than a King.

“Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice,” he spoke.

Merri instantly felt entranced. He was not dressed richly, wearing a blue tunic, black breeches, a black jerkin, black boots, and a thick fur coat. He carried a sword belted to his waist and she was sure he possessed many other weapons throughout his person. His hair was long and dark with streaks of gray and small, thin, beaded braids littering it. His beard was full but well kept, short and neat, adding to his overall appearance. If it was anyone else who looked like him, they might be mistaken for a common smith or guard. But not him. It would be impossible to mistake him for anyone else. His voice, a rich baritone, exuded power and a sense of command she had not heard from any other dwarf, any other man, she’d ever encountered. But as pleasant as all of this was, it was his eyes that got to her. Yes, the color was beautiful, a sort of blue-gray that was impossible to describe precisely, but the emotions she could read behind them took her breath away. She could not stop the soft “oh” from escaping her lips as she felt herself revisiting the story Gandalf had told her.

“Wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.” He continued further into their home, shedding jackets and weapons as he did. She had been right, he was carrying far more than a sword.

“Mark? There’s no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!” Bilbo’s incredulous voice brought her back to the present.

“There is a mark; I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.” Gandalf’s voiced turned from exasperated to proud on the turn of a farthing.

“So, this is the Hobbit. Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?” Merri’s expression of awe quickly turned to disquiet at the nature of these questions, as well as the tone in which they were being asked.

“Pardon me?” Bilbo looked just as startled as she felt. Thorin was circling around her brother like a hawk, looking for a weak point, eyes zeroing in at different aspects of his person.

“Axe or sword? What’s your weapon of choice?” he let out a hum of disapproval when his assessment of Bilbo came to a close.

“Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that’s relevant.” Bilbo tried very hard to sound indignant and she admired his attitude in the face of his assessment but even she felt a little sheepish at his response.

“Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” Thorin glanced at Gandalf before turning to the rest of the company with a small grin.

Merri then noticed no one had bothered to introduce her or ask about her skill with weaponry. She could not wield an axe or sword but she felt that her bow and her knife were perfectly acceptable options. She frowned when the dwarves all laughed and saw her brother’s deflated expression, arms laden with Thorin’s belongings. Still this King had not even looked at her and, so far, he was making a terrible guest. As they walked back toward the dining table Merri let out a quiet huff Gandalf looked down at her, as though he’d forgotten she was there. He looked like he was going to remedy the situation himself when Merri took it upon herself to provide her own introduction.

“Ahem,” she coughed and watched the imposing man turn to spare her a glance over his shoulder. He must have noticed the borderline furious expression on her face because he then turned to face her fully. “My name is Merriadonna Baggins, sir. Welcome to Bag End. I would have offered to take your belongings but it seems you have already shoved them on to my brother.” She had meant to sound more respectful, less angry, but her poor brother was at his wits end with these dwarves and she was not impressed with the way he had been treated so far. “In case you were curious I have experience with the bow and knives myself, and Bilbo does have a mean swing in a game of Conkers- he hasn’t lost a game yet. If you require anything please feel free to ask, and I do request you refrain from referring to Bilbo as a grocer or any other such nonsense since we are hosting you and your company in our home on such short notice.” She stared him down unblinking. It was too late to back down now. She had made her point and she would stick to it until it made it through their thick skulls. Her brother was only allowed to be teased by her and her alone.

“Lassie I would watch yer words carefully,” Warned Dwalin, the dwarf who had arrived first and appeared to be good friends with Thorin based on their greeting. “ye dunna know to whom ye speak.”

“Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain son of Thror, King Under the Mountain- that is, Erebor. I know exactly to whom I speak Master Dwalin and King or not I do not tolerate rudeness of any kind under my roof, especially when Bilbo and I have been nothing but hospitable.” She didn’t move a muscle, continuing to stare into the King’s eyes as she spoke watching for his reaction.

There was a collective intake of breath. Apparently, it was not often that anyone spoke to the Dwarven King in such a way. Thorin appraised her, he didn’t circle her the way he had with Bilbo, but his hawk’s eye studied and assessed her from where they stood three feet apart from one another. You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed. From the initial breath in, it now seemed the entire company was unable to release that breath.

“You didn’t mention her, Gandalf,” Thorin spoke after what felt like hours. “She seems to have more…spirit, than her brother, though I doubt that will count for much outside of Shire.” He turned his back on her and continued into the dining hall where he was brought the remainder of the Baggins sibling’s food and ale.

Merri’s eyes grew wide as she stood in her foyer on the other side of the archway leading to the dining room. The dwarves slowly filed in to the room after their leader. She heard Gandalf sigh and proceed forward as well, shooting her an apologetic look. Beside her, she could hear her brother shuffling his feet, glancing at her every now and again. His nose was twitching, meaning he was angry, but his brows were furrowed (the same way hers do) in concern as he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly.

He opened his mouth to inquire about her well-being: “Merri...”

“The _nerve_.” She hissed out between her teeth.

Bilbo looked at her with wide eyes as hers narrowed. She looked up at him and with a huff spun on her heal and marched with all the dignity and grace she could muster through the dining room and into the kitchen to make Bilbo and herself some tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Mandos is a member of the Valar and represents Death


	5. Chapter 5

Merri and Bilbo stood in the doorway of their dining hall listening to the dwarves talk amongst themselves as their King ate the food they somehow managed to gather from the remains of the pantry. Merri took a sip of her tea, eyes wandering around the room committing each dwarf to memory. They finally stopped on Thorin. She observed him while he spoke to his fellows, not entirely listening to what was being said, but to the emotions being expressed with each statement.  
“What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?” Balin asked, effectively ending all other conversation in the room.

Merri identified his emotion as hope. Because, despite his age, Balin was much like Gandalf, a spark of life far younger than his years burning behind his eyes. Merri knew if it came down to it this dwarf could probably slay the dragon through his will alone.

“Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms.” Thorin spoke quietly and yet she had no trouble hearing his voice and could feel the power it held.

When the dwarves responded in joyous murmuring, Merri was surprised to see that Thorin did not seem nearly as thrilled. She couldn’t quite place the feeling he gave off but it certainly wasn’t joy.

“What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?” Dwalin leaned forward in his seat, staring at Thorin with desperate eyes. He wanted this just as badly as his brother.

“They will not come. They say this quest is ours, and ours alone.” Thorin seemed to regret breaking this news, and she looked at the other dwarves, so full of joy a moment ago, now begin to fall back in their seats with groans.

“You’re going on a quest?” Her brother piped up from beside her.

The dwarves turned to look at them, as though just remembering whose home they were invading. Thorin barely glanced at them, perhaps he was a little miffed by her earlier statement. Merri certainly hoped so.

“Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light.” Gandalf motioned for Bilbo to bring their candles closer to the center table as he laid out a tattered map in front of them. Merri grabbed more candles from her bedroom and scurried closer to place them on the table where all could see. “Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak.” Gandalf paused his speech just in time for Bilbo to breathe, “The Lonely Mountain.”

“Aye. Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time.” Gloin nodded at his older brother. “Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold: When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.” Oin elaborated further.

“Uh, What beast?” His brows scrunched in the traditional, and apparently genetic, Baggins way and his nose twitched nervously.

“Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chieftest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire¬breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks, extremely fond of precious metals.” Bofur somehow managed to keep a warm smile and an amused expression on his face as he described this living nightmare.

“Yes, I know what a dragon is.” Bilbo sighed in exasperation. She could tell he was not enjoying having to defend himself in their own home.

“I’m not afraid! I’m up for it. I’ll give him a taste of the Dwarfish iron right up his jacksie.” Ori, who seemed to be the youngest of all the dwarves howled, standing up and pounding a fist on the table.

Several other dwarves joined in and encouraged his sentiments. And the dining room almost reached the same din it was at before the arrival of Thorin. She looked to him then, and while he still maintained a dignified exterior she could see a glow about him, almost seeming like pride as he watched his company ruckus.

“Sit down!” Ori’s older brother huffed, yanking him back into his seat.

“The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest.” The dwarves loudly object to this statement, and she could hear complaints such as, “Hey, who are you calling dim?” “Watch it!”, and “No!” echo from around the room. She grinned and chuckled quietly, from what’d she’d seen of them so far, she had to agree with Balin.

“What did he say?” Oin called, holding up his ear trumpet.

“We may be few in number, but we’re fighters, all of us, to the last dwarf!” Fili cried, earning shouts of agreement from the company. For a moment he reminded Merri of Thorin.

“And you forget, we have a wizard in our company. Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time.” Kili chimed in.

Again she was reminded of Thorin, though she doubted he’s ever displayed that much emotion at once, or smiled at all. But the manner in which the two spoke, the way they captivated and encouraged the men, and the strengthening of pride in Thorin’s eyes caused her to take pause.

“Oh, well, now, uh, I…¬I-¬I wouldn’t say that, I¬… ¬” Gandalf spluttered as the attention of the entire company rested on him.

“How many, then?” Dori was staring at him and Gandalf’s eyes flashed around the room looking for support. “Uh, what?” “Well, how many dragons have you killed? Go on, give us a number!” Dori made a “get on with it” motion with his hands and Gandalf’s eyes met hers, pleading. All she did was raise an eyebrow and grin.

“Hm.” Gandalf embarrassedly starts coughing on his pipe smoke spluttering worse than before. The dwarves jump to their feet, arguing about the number of dragons Gandalf has killed while Bilbo and Merri exchange skeptical looks. The arguments reach a cacophony and Merri can barely hear herself think when Thorin leaps to his feet with an annoyed expression and a shout of: “Shazara!” The dwarves immediately fell silent and Merri marveled, both at the strange word and Thorin himself. “If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!” Thorin finishes with a heavy-handed pound on their table top, shouting again in that powerful language.

Merri could practically feel electricity in the air, the atmosphere in the room was akin to those times when she stood on her front porch watching a storm roll in. The energy was palpable and even though she had no part in this quest she felt as though she could run all the way to Erebor, fight the dragon, and be home before tea time the next day.

“You forget: the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain.” Balin said once silence fell again. The other dwarved groaned again, probably sick of the emotional ride this conversation was taking them on.

“That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.” Gandalf grinned with that mischievous twinkle in his eye.  
Twiddling his fingers, Gandalf produces a key, ornately wrought and made of stone, seemingly from thin air. Judging by the expressions on Thorin and Balin’s faces, this key was dwarvish and was most likely a way to enter the supposedly locked mountain.

“How came you by this?” Thorin’s voice was barely over a whisper as he stretched out his hand to receive the key.

“It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now.” Gandalf places the key into Thorin’s palm and the group watched as his fingers slowly curled around it, a fire igniting in his eyes.

“If there is a key, there must be a door.” Fili mumbled, bringing the attention back to the quest at hand.  
Gandalf points at runes on the map with the end of his pipe, “These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls.” He explained. “There’s another way in!” Kili grinned at his brother before they turned to Thorin with matching smiles.

“Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle¬ Earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done.” Merri could feel the excitement swell around her as this quest became closer and closer to achievable.

“That’s why we need a burglar.” Ori stated matter of factly.

“Hm, A good one, too. An expert, I’d imagine.” Her brother nodded beside her, and once again the attention was on them.

“And are you?” Gloin looked at them and Merri felt her stomach drop. _No_.

“Am I what?” She reached down and grabbed Bilbo’s hand, startling him with her suddenness. _No no_.

She could not. _Would_ not, allow this. Her eyes grew wide and she felt herself begin to panic. They wouldn’t take him. Not Bilbo. No.

“He said he’s an expert! Hey hey!” Oin cried and several others joined in the cheers. She could only stand stock still, and try to breathe.

“M¬-¬Me? No, no, no, no, no. I’m not a burglar; I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.” Bilbo caught on to the reason her demeanor shifted and squeezed her hand back tightly. He was trying to reassure her. But Valar help her she couldn’t _breathe_.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He’s hardly burglar material.” Balin spoke up and both siblings nodded in agreement. “Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.” Dwalin chipped in. Bilbo nodded again. _That’s_ _right_ , she thought to herself as the dwarves began arguing amongst themselves. Bilbo didn’t know the first thing about life in the wilds. He hadn’t left Hobbiton since they were fauntlings and he had all but lost any wilderness survival skills he might have once known. She had a better chance than he did though she doubted anyone would consider that. Besides she couldn’t leave her brother. She wouldn’t leave him. They were each other’s worlds and she knew if anything happened to him she wouldn’t be able to live another day more. She vaguely noticed Gandalf’s growing ire and felt the pull of magic deep in her chest as he stood to his full height commanding the entire room's attention.

“Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is.” Everyone falls silent and watches as he settles back into his more unassuming visage. “Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There’s a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he’s got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself. You must trust me on this.” Gandalf finished looking directly into Thorin’s eyes, making his point as clear as the night sky.

“Very well. We will do it your way.” Thorin grumbled. _No no no no no no NO_. “No, no, no.” Bilbo stuttered trying to refurse. “Give him the contract.” Thorin motioned for Balin who began rummaging through his pack. No they can’t. they can’t take him away. I won’t _let_ them take him away.

“Please.” Bilbo whimpered and it drove her almost to tears at the desperation she heard.  


“Alright, we’re off!” Bofur walked over and thumped him on the shoulder as Balin hands Bilbo a long contract. “It’s just the usual summary of out¬of¬pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth.” He said, sparing her a quick glance.

“Funeral arrangements?” Bilbo gulped and let go of her hand to step back and read over the document.

Merri is left standing alone feeling waves of panic sweeping over her. She had never been apart from her brother. _Never_. They stood together no matter what. Especially after the deaths of their parents, she could not imagine her living without her brother by her side. She recalled what happened to her father after her mother died of her illness. _He faded_. She knew she would too if her brother died, or maybe even if he simply left her behind to go on this quest. If he left her behind for the months it would take to complete their journey and return home- if he returned home, she would have faded away. The grief, the loss, the loneliness would eat her alive. She would fade.

She could overhear Thorin and Gandalf’s whispered conversation as her brother studied his contract. “I cannot guarantee his safety.” “Understood.” “Nor will I be responsible for his fate.” “Agreed.” _What?_ How could they speak so callously? She could _hear_ them. Couldn’t they hear her? Couldn't anyone hear her? Didn’t they know what would happen to her without Bilbo there? Didn’t they know quests were no place for kind spirits like her brother? “No.” Her voice was hoarse and she didn’t think anyone actually heard her, turning to face her brother as he read the contract out loud, she missed entirely the furrowed brow and appraising look of the King standing behind her.

“Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any. Seems fair. Eh, Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations ... evisceration … incineration?” Her brother’s voice caught her attention and she listened to the list of injuries he was liable to receive as he read them aloud. He stopped there and she noticed his face had gone pale.

“Oh, aye, he’ll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye.” Bofur still managed to look cheerful as he said this.

“Huh.” Bilbo’s voice sounded breathy and Merri was immediately filled with concern. Her face took on the definitely genetic Baggins family worried face as she softly called: “Bilbo…?” “You all right, laddie?” Balin called a little louder. Bilbo looked nauseous as he bent in half breathing heavily. “Uh, yeah...Feel a bit faint.” She stepped closer to him, whispering reassurances and trying to distract him.

“Think furnace with wings.” Bofur continued and must have missed the furious look she sent him. “Air, I…I-¬¬I need air.” Bilbo was gasping for air now, repeatedly bending and straightening trying to circulate air through his body. She was about to take him outside when Bofur chimed in once more. “Flash of light, searing pain, then Poof! you’re nothing more than a pile of ash.” This time he did catch the look of pure rage she angled towards him from her position at Bilbo’s elbow, trying to keep him steady. He looked like he was going to say more, perhaps try to repair the damage he had done, but it was too late. Bilbo breathed heavily, trying to compose himself as the others stared at him. “Bilbo…” she tried again, tightening her grip on his elbow to keep him up right. “Hmmm. Nope.” Was Bilbo’s only response before he collapsed in a dead faint, almost dragging Merri down with him.

“Ah, very helpful, Bofur.” Gandalf grumbled as he rushed to help her bring her brother into the sitting room to rest. Bofur at least had the decency to look apologetic.

When Gandalf reached them, and began to collect Bilbo in his arms she let out a furious hiss. _“Don’t touch him.”_ She shot him a burning glare, wrapping one of Bilbo's arms around her shoulders and her own arm around his waist. “I can do it myself, you’ve done quite enough.” With that she turned and made her way to his favorite armchair settling him down with the most comfortable pillow in their home and even giving him the warmest blanket, which they always argued over. Gandalf trailed behind her and several of the dwarves peaked in behind him.

“I don’t understand why you’re angry with me? I have done nothing but defend Bilbo this whole night! I assure you I had nothing to do with the fainting spell-” He started off and Merri finally let her patience snap.

“ _Defending him?_ Is that what you call defense? It looks like it worked very well, he’s very easy to defend when he's _unconscious_.” She seethed. She realized she was not being polite, nor was she being a good host, and if her mother could see her now she knew she’d be livid.

“My dear, I did not intend-” Gandalf spoke again, he was probably going to spout some nonsense and try to confuse her with his odd speech and clever tongue.

“Intend? _Intend?_ Intent is all well and good when you lead my brother on a quest he has no business being on to get _incinerated_ by a _dragon_ while you and His Majesty over there avoid blame!” She wasn’t going to pull any punches, she wouldn’t hold back, not while her brother’s safety was in her hands.

“Was this your plan all along? Was this what you had in mind when you found me in the woods this morning? What a fool I’ve been to trust the intentions of wizards.” Her voice lost it’s bite, now she only sounded cold and bitter. “Please, just leave for a moment and let me care for my brother.” She mumbled, turning away and effectively ending the conversation. _Oh Bilbo, what are we going to do?_


	6. Chapter 6

It wasn’t long before Bilbo woke up and Merri was certain that until the moment his eyes fluttered open, her heart had ceased beating. She let out a relived sighed and chuckled breathily, but there was little humor in the sound.  


“Thank goodness you’ve woken, welcome back to the world of the living dear brother.” She smiled shakily and gave his cheek a soft pat.  


“Oh Merri, I’m afraid I’ve made such a fool of myself. And in front of our guests, what mother say-” He immediately began worrying and rambling once more and Merri huffed in frustration.  


“You have nothing to prove to these people, Bilbo. They’ve done nothing but bully you since that confounded wizard arrived this morning! You owe them nothing and I’m sure the only words mother would have to say would not be appropriate to say aloud.” She frowned over her shoulder, it seemed as though she’d been frowning most of the day which only served to prove her complaints about their company correct.  


“You rest Bilbo, I’m going to fetch you some tea.” She gave his face another pat before she stood and left the room, heading in the direction of the kitchen where she heard frantic whispering.  


She walked into the dining room and all noise ceased. She held her head high and refused to meet the eyes of the dwarves as she weaved her way around the chairs and in to the kitchen. She set water to boil, picked his favorite mug and pulled leaves from his favorite chamomile blend. She could hear uncomfortable mumbling and the shifting bodies behind her but decided she would address them when she was good and ready.  


As the water began to boil she heard a chair scrape back and a person begin to shuffle towards her followed quickly by a hesitant cough. She titled her head to acknowledge that she heard the sound, but did nothing to address the person who uttered it.  


When she finally finished preparing Bilbo’s tea she turned to address the room. As it turned out it had been the older dwarf, Balin, and she found she slightly regretted her rudeness towards him; he was the only who had agreed with her not to send Bilbo on this quest. He was looking at her with concern and she actually believed he was worried for her brother.  


“How’s the lad?” He asked her, eyes wide and pleading.  


She sighed, realizing she could hold no anger with the kindly dwarf and replied, “he’s woken up, but he’s a bit worn out by this whole ordeal,” she then addressed the rest of the room. “feel free to make yourselves comfortable and if there is anything you require you only need but ask, though I do request you keep the volume at a respectable level for the sake of my brother’s pounding head and the peace of our sleeping neighbors.” She kept her tone clipped as she moved past the dwarves to bring the mug of tea to her brother before the dwarves slowly began filing into the sitting room and adjoining living room.  


As she made her way to her brother’s side she felt a hand fall on her shoulder, startled she looked up in to the soft blue eyes of Gandalf. She glowered and he sighed.  


“I’d like to talk to Bilbo myself if you don’t mind?” She opened her mouth to object and say she minded very much, but at the severe look to his face, she settled for gritting her teeth and nodding her head, moving in to the other room so as not to lose her temper again.  


She quickly made her way through to the living room to rebuild the fire her brother started earlier that was almost down to ashes. She worked steadily and efficiently, humming a lullaby that had been her favorite as a child under her breath in the hope that it would calm her down. Just as it had begun to work she felt eyes on her and heard the shifting of fabric as dwarves began to settle around her. She stood to make her way back in to the kitchen to clean what was left over, when a more subdued but still cheerful voice caught her attention.  


“I’m sorry lassie. I didn’t mean to give yer brother such a fright, I was just trying to help.” She wanted to be mad at Bofur, but the way he stood in front of her, big floppy hat in hand, looking like the picture of remorse, she found all the fight in her fully spent.  


Now she was only tired, and she gave him a small smile and released a breath she was sure she’d been holding all night. She walked over to him, and placed a hand over his.  


“You are forgiven, Master Dwarf. I understand how important this quest is to you and your people, and that your heart is in the right place.” She considered stopping there, she had responded with dignity and kindness, but somehow it felt unfinished, like there was more in her heart that needed to be said.  


“But you must understand that my brother is my home, he is all I have left in this world and just as you were devastated to lose your homes, I too would surely fall into despair if I lost him .” She didn’t often speak of such things, Merri did not like to consider what it would be like to lose him, but when she realized how many people they had lost she realized what needed to be said. She looked in to the eyes of her mother’s portrait, hanging above the hearth, and drew strength from the compassion in her eyes.  


“When Gandalf found me in the woods earlier today, he told me of your quest, the struggles of your people, and the resilience you’ve proven to have thus far. And I told him I would do anything I could to help you, but I’m afraid that if you take my brother from me,” here she paused to take a breath and steady herself before she let the next words tumble from her lips, letting them rush out before she could change her mind, “you will find a very angry hobbit trailing you through your entire journey. If you take Bilbo, you take me as well.” At her words silence fell around the room, and all eyes were on her.  


Gandalf was doing his best to convince Bilbo to accompany them, and he thought he was finally making headway in their argument, he could see the Took Family spark begin to flare in his eyes.  


“Well, all good stories deserve embellishment. You’ll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back.” He smiled down at the hobbit whom he knew would come to play an important role in the future of Middle Earth, if only he could be convinced to leave his home.  


“Can you promise that I will come back?” Bilbo was looking at him with severe eyes, he could see he desperately wanted to go, but something that held a greater importance than the comforts of home was holding him back.  


“No. And if you do, you will not be the same.” Gandalf responded, for he could not lie or mince words when it came to this.  


“That’s what I thought. Sorry, Gandalf, I can’t sign this. You’ve got the wrong Hobbit.” Bilbo sighed and was about to turn away but when he caught the expression on the wizard’s face, he felt he owed him a better explanation.  


“I can’t do this. I can’t embark on a quest to slay a dragon and win back a mountain. I can’t afford not to come back. I can’t do it. Not to her.” His eyes left the wizard’s face to rest on his sister’s figure, standing amongst the crowd of dwarves staring at their mother’s portrait as she spoke in a low voice.  


Gandalf’s eyes flashed with unshared knowledge, like he was the only one who knew a secret. Bilbo didn’t get the chance to ask before his sister’s voice grew louder and caught his attention. Instead he walked down the hall towards where she was standing listening to whatever tale she was telling the dwarves around her.  


Balin, Thorin, and Gandalf stood at the end of the hall. Thorin seemed frustrated and Balin was uncharacteristically somber. Gandalf’s eyes merely twinkled in mirth as he watched events unfold before him. The older dwarf sighed, turning to his King and friend, mustering up a resolute courage to speak.  


“It appears we have lost our burglar. Probably for the best. The odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toy¬makers; hardly the stuff of legend.” Despondency was not a feeling he was used to and Balin desperately wished things could be different. Instead he was met with Gandalf’s amused face, and Thorin’s stern face alight with determined fire.  


“There are a few warriors amongst us.” He chuckled down at his old friend. “Old warriors.” He shot back, some sadness leaving his body. “I will take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills. For when I called upon them, they came. Loyalty. Honor. A willing heart. I can ask no more than that.” He nodded at his company, his heart ached when he thought about everything his company was giving up helping him on this farfetched quest.  


“You don’t have to do this. You have a choice. You’ve done honorably by our people. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains, a life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor.” Thorin seemed to consider this, before he uncurled his fist and held out the key Gandalf gave him, before meeting his friend’s eyes.  


“From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me. They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin. Not for me.” He looked out over his men, who seemed entranced by whatever tale their hostess was telling them. He briefly wondered what had them so enraptured.  


“Then we are with you, laddie. We will see it done.” Balin clapped him on the shoulder, moving in to the living room to stand with his brother, listening to whatever the hobbit lass was saying. Thorin strode forward to join them, catching the end of her speech.  


“-And I told him I would do anything I could to help you, but I’m afraid that if you take my brother from me you will find a very angry hobbit trailing you through your entire journey. If you take Bilbo, you take me as well.” She was proud of herself for speaking her mind. Of course, she’d never once struggled with that in her life, but this was something important, something that mattered, and she knew if she didn’t say it now, the results would be disastrous.  


“What!?” She heard a voice squeak out from behind her.  


She turned and saw her brother, along with Gandalf, Thorin, and Balin standing at the edge of the small camp the dwarves had made in the living room. His face had gone ghostly pale and he was staring at her with wide eyes.  


“There you see! You need not worry about your sister’s well-being, seeing as she is now accompanying you on this journey!” Gandalf grinned widely, as if he somehow knew this was coming all along, she suspected he had.  


With his single statement, the quiet that had settled turned in a raucous of arguments, agreements, and just general shouting. Some dwarves seemed appalled at the idea of her coming along- citing her daintiness, femininity, and lack of knowledge of the world outside of the Shire. Others seemed to agree with her, arguing that there were plenty of female warrior dwarves, and that she had mentioned she could shoot earlier in the evening. Others still believed that neither her nor her brother should join them and that they should find someone more qualified along the way or even amongst themselves. And from each of these factions countless other arguments sprung forth.  


“I can’t- I can’t handle this right now.” Her brother began rubbing his temples and stomped his way further into their smial towards his rooms.  


“Bilbo, wait!” She called, chasing after him down the hall.  


She caught up to him quickly, grabbing his shoulder she turned him around so they stood face to face. Identical eyes met one another. Each filled with determination even though what they were determined to do were two separate things.  


“You’re not going.”  


“But Bilbo I-”  


“No.”  


“You’re not listening to me!”  


“What do you need me to hear? You’re not going! I was just getting through saying that I wouldn’t leave you and hear you are ready to leave me behind without even being asked!”  


“That’s not what I said! You didn’t hear me, and now you’re not listening!”  


“Then enlighten me.”  


“I’m not going.”  


“Good.”  


“Not without you.”  


“No! Absolutely not!”  


“But Bilbo, think of the adventure, it’s everything we’ve been dreaming about, ever since we were fauntlings. Remember?”  


“Yes.”  


“So, you see we must go!”  


“I said I remember. But that was before the fell winter, before mother fell ill, before she died and father faded, before we understood that we were all we had, that dreams of adventure were nothing but folly.”  


She fell silent at this, eyes watering. She hadn’t realized how jaded her brother had become. She knew he preferred the comforts of home, where they were safe and nothing was ever unexpected, but what she hadn’t expected was such strong hatred. No, that wasn’t right. Not hatred. But fear. He was afraid, afraid of what would happen to them out in the world.  


“Bilbo, I won’t lose you and I won’t leave you, I know if we go on this adventure it will be perilous, but we have each other. What was it that mother always said?” She spoke softly, taking his hands in hers and looking up at his face.  


“If you think you can, you will.” He sighed resolutely. It looked like he was about to say more but all at once there was singing.  


It began slowly, almost like she felt it before she heard it, reverberating through her body, resonating deep in her bones, and pulling at her soul. The feeling built until it became audible and finally she understood that it was singing that had so captured her whole being.  
Thorin began to sing, his voice a strong and clear baritone the words falling from him by their own will. I wasn’t long before the others join him, the sound of their voices creating a perfect harmony, completely different from the jaunty make believe jig they had created earlier at her brother’s expense. Merri knew this was different, something rare, and something to be cherished.  


“Far over the misty mountains cold  
To dungeons deep and caverns old  
We must away ere break of day  
To find our long ¬forgotten gold  
The pines were roaring on the height  
The winds were moaning in the night  
The fire was red, it flaming spread  
The trees like torches blazed with light”  


It took Merri ages to come to her senses, and by then she saw that most of the dwarves were settling in for the night, some already asleep. Bilbo had left quietly some time ago, but she found herself standing in the hall for a long while after. She heard footsteps and was brought out of her trance by Thorin Oakenshield staring at her with some indecipherable emotion written on his face. She dumbly realized that her inability to read him was becoming both commonplace and undeniably frustrating. He was stretching his hand towards her, confused she saw a small scrap of cloth between his fingertips. He must’ve seen the confusion on her face because he motioned for her to take the cloth murmuring.  


“You’re crying.” She blinked at him owlishly for a moment before reaching out and taking the handkerchief from him to dab at her face, incredibly embarrassed. 

“You hadn’t noticed?” He had an eyebrow raised and she didn’t think she liked the amused tone in her voice. It was his fault she was crying anyway, him and that enchanting hymn.  


“No, it would seem not. But how could I not cry, listening your song.” She sniffled slightly, passing his kerchief back.  


He tucked it into a pocket still looking at her face, now probably red and blotchy from her tears.  


“You don’t know my people, you didn’t even know of our struggle until earlier today, how was our song able to move you so?” He seemed genuinely confused, as though he’d never before experienced empathy or compassion, maybe he hadn’t.  


“I did not realize empathy was not permitted, I beg your pardon. Not only was I moved by your story, but I found myself remembering something myself that affected me so, if you needed to know.” She was trying to regain some shred of dignity in his presence, which seemed impossible now. He raised an eyebrow at her, and she huffed quietly.  


“You must be tired, you traveled far, and in the rain, and it has been an eventful evening. Do you need anything before I retire, my lord?” She wouldn’t be able to stand any more embarrassment tonight, and opted instead to play the role of hostess again.  


“There is nothing more I require of your family. Pleasant slumber, Miss Baggins.” He bowed slightly and she supposed this was the closest thing she’d receive to a “thank you” from the dwarven King.  


“Good night, Your Majesty.” She curtsied back, and decided to try her best to needle a proper “thank you” from him in the morning.  
She made to retire to her room but found herself unable to sleep. She hadn’t even bothered to change yet, so instead she made her way back through the darkened halls, into her kitchen to attempt and prepare breakfast for the hoard of dwarves in the morning. There was a surprising amount of food and materials left over, so she did her best to create an appetizing meal for all of them before they left on their quest. She decided then and there that she would be going, no matter what.  


Merri woke up the next morning expecting to hear the load gathering of dwarves enjoying the full breakfast she’d prepared as they readied themselves for the journey ahead. Instead she was met only by silence. She made her way through the halls and was surprised when she was only greeted by her brother standing in the dining room. No other living creature could be heard or seen and the entire house had been reset to it’s original condition. It was almost as if the dwarves had never been there at all. The only indication was the absence of the massive meal she had prepared, save for two bowls of porridge and a few biscuits they’d left for Bilbo and herself, as well as the contract resting in the middle of the table.  


“Hello?” Bilbo called in to the silence, ears straining to hear any sort of response.  


He looked back at her with a sad expression before looking down at the contract once more. Finally he looked back at her, the two seemed to share a silent conversation before matching expressions took over their faces. The house was a flurry of activity before the two found themselves bursting from the door to their house, blowing past the gate, and racing down the path through Bag End, down Bag Shot Row, the streets of Hobbiton, out into the Shire proper. To anyone who asked about their whirlwind of movement, they received only a chorus of:  


“We’re going on an adventure!” From Bilbo and Merriadonna Baggins as they raced onwards, the dualy signed contract flapping in the wind behind them.


	7. Chapter 7

It seemed like they had run through the whole Shire before they caught up with the company, they must’ve left quite early that morning. Bilbo spotted them first, a trail of ponies, some carrying dwarves, others carrying equipment, along with a horse ridden by a familiar and troublesome wizard. She could start to hear snippets of their conversation as they drew closer, but she found she didn’t care to listen as she and Bilbo tried to catch their attention.  


“Wait! Wait!” Bilbo called out, and it seemed they finally heard them.  


The ponies all slow to a stop as the entire company is made aware of their arrival. Some seem happy and some just roll their eyes, and quite a few of them were eyeing her with wariness unsure of whether she should join them or not.  


Once the company came to a complete stop, Bilbo walked over to Balin and handed him their contract, Merri trailed behind him, trying not to appear as tired as she felt. She was sure her hair was a mess, but at least she was no longer wearing a dress- which would’ve been ruined before they left Hobbiton.  


“I signed it!” Bilbo gasped out, out of breath as he waited for Balin to read it over. She nudged him in the side and he blinked before amending his words.  


“We signed it.” She nodded and stood tall beside her brother as Balin briefly glanced up from the paper in front of him.  


“Everything appears to be in order. Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.” He looks to her a little nervous.  


“I noticed you signed as well, I’m not sure if we can take you on in addition to your brother. It will be hard enough to keep one burglar safe, and what exactly can you bring to the table that your brother cannot? I appreciate you wanting to help but I don’t think we need you too.” He spoke carefully, like he was afraid of her reaction. But she had rehearsed this moment in her head a hundred times on their way to meet them and she would not be turned away now that she was this close. 

“I’m coming along whether you want me to or not. My brother and I will share his fourteenth of the treasure and any arrangements you would make for him can be cut in half and shared with me. I am perfectly capable of protecting myself, but if it makes you feel better Bilbo and I will take care of ourselves so as not to fall under the liability of the company. As to what I can offer, one can never have too many cooks and hunters and I possess some skill with medicine from when our parents were ill. I will do everything in my power not to be a burden, but I am coming on this quest. If I think I can, I will.” She let this all rush out, as though worried they would turn her away if she stopped.  


Balin shifted uncomfortably, before looking back at Thorin over his shoulder. With a whisper from Gandalf, Thorin sighed and nodded his head and so too did Balin. The dwarves cheered patting her brother on the back and grinning down at her.  


“Give them ponies.” Thorin seemed less than thrilled at the idea of them coming along, and even less so now that they had to reconfigure their mounts in the middle of the path.  


“No, no, no, no, that¬¬-that won’t be necessary, thank you, but I-¬¬I’m sure I can keep up on foot. I¬¬ I¬¬-I’ve done my fair share of walking holidays, you know. I even got as far as Frogmorton once¬¬-WAGH!” She watched in amusement as her brother frantically flailed about as Kili and Fili rode up behind him, picked him up by the elbows and placed him on one of the ponies.  


They seemed a little confused about what to do with her. It would be difficult to split up another pony’s worth of equipment, but she certainly wouldn’t be able to keep up on foot for very long.  


She sighed, piping up before the situation got worse. “I can ride with Bilbo, the two of will share a pony so we don’t overload any of the others with equipment. Besides, I quite enjoy riding and will make sure my brother doesn’t lose his way.” She gently grabbed the reigns of Bilbo’s pony, pulling her to a full stop before she mounted up behind her brother.  


“I don’t mean to offer insult lassie, but I’m not sure how well Myrtle will handle the weight of two riders. She’ll get tired before long and we can’t afford to stop more than once a day.” Gloin explained, seeming worried he had insulted her.  


“I suppose I can walk a few miles every day so she won’t get tired, Bilbo and I can alternate who rides and who walks.” She was doing her best not to become a burden, but not even five minutes in and they couldn’t even decide how she’d travel.  


“That’s ridiculous you’re not walking. She’s not walking. If your pony gets tired you can always switch mounts, you can ride with me if you’d like.” Kili called out for the company to hear. They all seemed to grumble some form of consent and began their march forward once again.  


She had to force herself not blush as she thanked Kili for his offer, the idea of sharing a pony with someone who wasn’t a relative or spouse in hobbit culture would be considered highly inappropriate and she could practically feel her brother panicking in front of her.  


“Merri, no. I’ll walk but you’re not riding with some- some dwarf! Absolutely not! I will not allow it, no.” She couldn’t see his face, but she was sure it was the reddish-purple color it had been when he found out Norbert Willowinde had invited her to the autumn festival in Frogmorton without asking his permission first. But just like last time, she was old enough to make her own decisions, and decided to agree to travel with Kili or some other companion should Myrtle grow tired.  


“Bilbo Baggins, I am 46 years old and I can make my own decisions. I will not be a burden to this company or to this poor pony. Besides, they’re dwarves not hobbits, the same rules of propriety do not apply. Now if you’re quite finished mothering me, we’ve begun to fall behind.” She huffed. Honestly, she loved her brother dearly but he spent far too often worrying about trivial things instead of experiencing the world around them.  


As they caught up to the rest of the group, she could see bags and coins exchanging hands and various exclamations of joy or anger following each. Frowning she listened as they matched pace with Kili and Fili.  


“Come on, Nori, pay up. Go on.” Oin called as Nori tossed a sack of money to Oin.  


Several other exchanges are completed before normal conversation returns to the group. Bilbo nudges Myrtle forward, to reach Gandalf and leans forward to catch his attention.  


“What’s that about?” Bilbo called up to him, and Merri leaned forward, careful to keep the pony steady as she did so, curious as well.  


“Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you’d turn up. Most of them bet that you wouldn’t.” Gandalf hummed matter of factly looking around the company for something.  


“What did you think?” Bilbo asked, and Merri almost rolled her eyes. With how much effort the wizard put in to convincing him to join them she was certain of his answer.  


“Hmmm.” His eyes finally find what he was searching for and he raised a hand to catch several pouches of money thrown his way. “My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second.” He chuckled, tucking the money into his bag.  


Suddenly Bilbo released a violent sneeze. “Ohh. All this horse hair, I’m having a reaction.” She gave him a small pat on the back in solace.  


Bilbo began frantically searching his pockets. He seemed to panic when he realized he was unable to find whatever it was he was looking for, and looked up in shock.  


“No, no, wait, wait, stop! Stop! We have to turn around.” She jumped slightly as he shouted, grabbing the attention of the whole company.  


“Bilbo what is it?” She was concerned that he forgot something important, maybe a cloak for when it began to get cold, or an extra blanket for when they needed to sleep on rougher terrain. She was expecting anything but what he ended up saying.  


The entire company had come to a halt, and the dwarves start objecting and asking what the problem was, some seemed concerned that he had forgotten something important, or that he might’ve changed his mind.  


“What on earth is the matter?” Gandalf spluttered and she felt much the same way.  


“I forgot my handkerchief.”  


She stared blankly at her brother’s back, wondering exactly why he thought that they needed to turn the whole company around for a handkerchief. She punched him lightly on the arm and shot him the same look she reserved for when he teased her for not being married yet.  


“Here! Use this.” Bofur called, tossing Bilbo a scrap of cloth torn from the corner of his jacket. Merri thought it was quite sweet of him to offer his own clothes as a kerchief. Bilbo caught the rag with a disgusted expression, but used it when Merri pointed out how kind it was for Bofur to offer. The dwarves laugh at his expression and begin to continue their journey at Thorin’s word.  


“You’ll have to manage without pocket¬ handkerchiefs and a good many other things, Bilbo Baggins, before we reach our journey’s end. You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire, but home is now behind you; the world is ahead.” Gandalf says, urging his own horse forward.


	8. Chapter 8

The company found a clearing backed up to a ridge to camp for the night. It had been a little over a week since the start of their journey, and so far, nothing eventful had happened. She was growing rather tired of the routine they had built so far. She rode most of the day with Bilbo on Myrtle, and when they stopped for lunch she helped Bombur cook what they had, she had offered to go out and hunt for something in the surrounding woods, but she was assured they still had enough to last for the rest of the week. Once they ran out, they would decide who would go hunting.  


So, she settled for helping cook what they had, and travelling around distributing it to the members of the company. She had taken to brushing down the horses during their lunch break and when they stopped for the night, feeling bad for the effort they went through carrying the company and all their belongings for so long.  


In the afternoon, she would ride with one of the dwarves. For the first two days, she only rode with Kili, since he had insisted the first day of their journey. The two of them chatted about anything that came to mind. They exchanged tips on archery, once she found out he was the only other person in the company who could shoot, complained about their respective older brothers, and he helped her learn how each dwarf in the company was related. They were having such a great time with one another that by midway through the third day, Fili demanded she ride with him, claiming that his brother was “hogging her”. She didn’t quite understand the phrase, but figured it was probably a good idea to split her extra weight between more than just two ponies, and so started the tradition of her finding a new willing company member to ride with each day.  


Her brother still insisted she ride with him every morning, trying to hold on to some sense of propriety, he really did not fancy the idea of her sharing a pony with strange men each day, and if they had any other option she would have agreed. But the dwarves had been perfect gentlemen, not even aware that sharing a saddle was something reserved for relatives and married couples in Shire culture.  


Now, they had all begun to get used to each other, talking more and trying to learn more about one another. More dwarves were willing to allow her to ride with them during the day, and they would even take time to chat with her when she brought them dinner. She and some of the younger dwarves would tell their favorite jokes over their meal, and one of the dwarves would happily provide a fun tune to sing to before bed.  


Tonight, they had reached the edge of the Shire, they would be in the wilds tomorrow and there would be far less freedom for song and merrymaking. She laid out her sleeping mat next to her brother’s and settled in for the night.  


She awoke to the sound of laughter sometime later. Grumbling she sat up to see Kili and Fili bent over in laughter while her brother shifted nervously nearby, scanning the woods around them. She frowned and got up, walking over to find out what had happened.  


“They were just playing a joke Merri, it’s not a big deal, I shouldn’t get so frightened so easily. Just go back to bed.” Her brother sighed and she frowned. She understood jokes just fine, and she always enjoyed when her brother spent time with the dwarves. He was shy by nature and it was taking him much longer than her to warm up to their new company, so jokes were fine. But this was not. They were scaring him, and she didn’t like to see her brother afraid.  


“Well it’s a terrible joke, I don’t find it funny at all. In fact, it seems quite mean and ill-timed. See here, we’re just about to leave the Shire and the world beyond is quite dangerous. Orcs and raids don’t seem like the sort of thing to joke about, if you ask me.” She shot a glare at the young princes, grabbing her brother’s hand and tugging him back over to where they set up their camp.  


He gladly followed she saw the two princes exchange looks, seemingly cowed by her statement. She had just sat down when another figure strode past, straight for the boys, fire in his eyes.  


“You think that’s funny? You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?” Thorin growled at his nephews, he seemed like he was barely containing his fury, and Merri almost felt sorry for them. Almost. “We didn’t mean anything by it.” Kili and Fili bowed their heads, shuffling their feet and refusing to look their uncle in the eye.  


“No, you didn’t. You know nothing of the world.” Thorin huffed, seeming more tense than angry as he made his way to the edge of the ridge where he stood looking up at the stars.  


Balin got to his feet and walked over to Fili and Kili, patting them each on the shoulder as he stood in front of them with a somber expression.  


“Don’t mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first.” Balin let out a sigh equal parts tired and sad as he began to regale the slowly waking company of Thorin’s tale.  


Merri had yet to speak to the dwarf king since the beginning of their trip, and reveled in any new information she was able to gather. But she soon found this story to be just as heartbreaking as the first that Gandalf had shared with her what felt like months ago.  


The Battle of Azanulbizar; a thousand of dwarves and orcs fight in front of the gates of Moria. Thorin, Thror, Thrain, Balin, and Dwalin fought fiercely, trying to win back their ancestral home, trying to find a place for the displaced dwarves of Erebor. A massive, pale, orc wipes out many dwarves with his mace on the field of battle, he turned his attention King Thror with a gruesome smile. The monster decided then and there that he would be the downfall of the line of Durin.  


“Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs lead by the most vile of all their race: Azog, the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the King.” Balin’s voice had captured the attention of everyone in the company, and Merri felt herself transported on to the plains of Moria, as if she were watching the battle first hand.  


Azog, defeated King Thror, and held up his beheaded head as roaring for all to hear and catching the attention of the young Prince Thorin. Flinging the head, it bounces and rolls its way to Thorin’s feet who let out a heartrending scream at the sight of his grandfather’s head.  


“Thrain, Thorin’s father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us.” Balin’s voice was sullen, as if he too had returned to the battle, watching the orcs destroy his people around him.  


“That is when I saw him: a young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc.” The dwarves pause in their retreat to watch the last heir to the throne, the last in the line of Durin face the pale orc.  


Thorin faces Azog with a grim expression, the orc only grinning in response; Azog swings his mace with both strength and accuracy, a skill that few orcs possessed. He knocks away first Thorin’s shield, then his sword, leaving the prince completely vulnerable. Thorin falls down an embankment rolling and jerking, landing hard on the ground below.  


“He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent…wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield” Azog leaps down the bank, hoping to finish the fight quickly and declare his victory over dwarf-kind, he tries to smash with his mace Thorin, but Thorin grabbed an oaken branch lying on the ground and managed to roll away in time. Azog continues wielding his mace against Thorin, who has yet to stand up, but Thorin blocks his mace with the oaken branch, utilizing it as a shield. Azog swings one last time and Thorin reached for a nearby sword, swings with precision and might to cut off Azog’s left arm, his mace arm, from below the elbow. Azog screamed in pain, collapsing to the ground as his orc army swarmed and dragged his dying body away.  


“Azog, the Defiler, learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken.” Thorin turned to face his people, leading them to rally against the orcs now that their leader had fallen.  


“Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!”  


“Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, no song, that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived. Balin and Dwalin hug and put their foreheads together as they weep. Balin, still weeping, looks up and sees Thorin framed in the sunlight, holding his oaken branch.  


“And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King.”  
Merri felt her heart stop beating as Thorin turned to face the company. Each member was stood in respect and awe staring at their leader in a new-found light. She was surprised none of them had heard the tale before, it seemed like a legend straight from her childhood fairy stories. But perhaps it was different, hearing it from someone who had lived it, while the hero stood merely feet away. She knew she felt small, standing in his shadow, she couldn’t imagine what his kinsmen felt in this moment.  


“But the pale orc? What happened to him?” Bilbo’s voice was barely over a whisper, like he was afraid that monster might appear if he spoke of him aloud.  


“He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago.” With that final word, Thorin made his way back through the company, where he set up his own bedroll, giving a clear signal that the discussion was over and that it was time for bed.  


Everyone began to follow suit, and immediately the campsite fell back into their chaotic sort of quiet. There were loud snores, and aggressive shifting as everyone settled down for the night, but Merri found herself unable to do so. She sat up and made her way to the edge of cliff, sitting down and letting her legs hang over the side.  


She heard the grass shift behind her and saw Thorin himself standing behind her, looking out at the valley and wasn’t entirely sure if he knew she was there.  


Now wanting to frighten him or feel like she was spying on him (even though she had arrived first).  


“We meet again, my lord.” Her voice was barely over a whisper as she recalled how similar this was to the company’s stay in her home, and her late-night conversation with Thorin after he caught her crying after their song.  


If he was surprised by her, he did a remarkable job of not showing it. He simply moved to stand closer to her, still not meeting her eyes until she spoke again.  


“I’m sorry” she whispered, “I know it’s no consolation, and I don’t mean to sound like I’m pitying you. But I really am sorry, not just for your people, but you as well.” When he still didn’t look at her, and she noticed his posture stiffened, she figured she overstepped her boundaries and made to dismiss herself.  


“You speak as though you know loss.” She barely heard his voice and was surprised he bothered to speak to her at all.  


They hadn’t spoken since she argued for her place in the company, and she hadn’t expected to start a conversation with him at all, least of all in the dead of night on the edge of cliff.  


“Hobbits have had our own struggle, nothing like what your people experienced, but, we suffered. Bilbo and I lost our parents to the fell winter.” She felt the familiar ache in her chest, but seeing the confusion on the King’s face she felt she had to explain.  


“The fell winter was the greatest tragedy the Shire experienced in this age. A winter that lasted a year, freezing everything, the food, the ground, the water, the people. Some froze, some starved, others were killed. The lakes and rivers froze solid, we were invaded by orcs and wolves, no one was safe and no one was spared. My brother was 20 and I was 15 at the worst of it, we were too far into the Shire to worry about orcs but wolves were another story. We defended our home, that’s what’s important, but we couldn’t defend against winter itself.” This part of the story was always the hardest to tell, but she’d already begun and she’d captured the interest of the dwarf King, it was too late to turn back.  


“Our mother got sick, and even after the winter turned spring, she didn’t get better. We did everything we could, but she passed. That would’ve been hard enough but then our father began to fade.” Again, Thorin looked confused so she found herself explaining again.  


“Hobbits fall in love, we can marry anyone we please, but if we fall in love- that’s forever. Some are even lucky enough to find a soulmate, someone the Valor picked just for us, and when you find that person, you never let go. My parents were bonded and when my mother died, my father’s heart couldn’t bare it. So, he faded. He couldn’t eat or sleep, his mind and body wasted away, he never spoke again, and he hardly recognized me or Bilbo. It was agonizing. I was, I suppose I could say, relieved, when he died. He wasn’t suffering anymore, and he got to see my mother again, I bet she missed him, it took him two years to fade. Bilbo and I were 21 and 15 when mother died, and 23 and 17 when father faded.” She smiled sadly up at the stars, she could feel the shine in her eyes and focused all her efforts on preventing her tears. This would not become a habit, crying in front of Thorin Oakenshield.  


“I’m sorry for your loss.” He mumbled back at her. She smiled at him, remembering what her mother had taught her.  


“As I am for yours. But, I’m glad they’re together now, and I’m glad Bilbo and I stayed together, I’m glad that I didn’t go off and marry some tailor in Frogmorten, and I’m glad your company came to our doorstep. I have plenty to be thankful for, and plenty to smile about. I cannot speak on your behalf, but I know that finding one thing, however small, to smile about each day, will make the pain lessen over time. It never goes away, but, you’ll find yourself feeling lighter after enough time has passed.” She got to her feet and dusted off her trousers as she spoke, shooting a grin at Thorin. “And I think you could do with a smile, my lord.” She turned to go, but found herself stopped by his voice again.  


“Thorin. You don’t have to call me by title, everyone in this company can call me Thorin, I am not King yet.” He grumbled and then fell silent, standing and looking out over the valley once more, clearly that had been enough speaking for one night.  


She thought to object, to say that he was the Kingliest man she had ever met. That it was impossible for him to be anything but a King. But she knew her time was up, and that it was far too late to be awake when they had a full day of travelling in the wilds ahead of them.  


“Good Night, Thorin.” She called quietly over her shoulder as she settled down for the night.  


A few days later finds the company traveling through a wooded path, currently everyone was miserable due to the constant rain that had persisted since that morning. Everyone was beginning to get cranky, and the dampness felt as though it had seeped into her very bones. Her cloak was useless now, it had become soaked through for hours now only adding to her irritability.  


“Here, Mr. Gandalf, can’t you do something about this deluge?” Dori called over the sound of the ponies trudging through the mud. “It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.” Even Gandalf was growing irritable in this weather. Experiencing tensions and bad temperament as a fairly new travelling group, was never a pleasant experience, and she was looking forward to the moment they would be able to rest again.  


“Are there any?” Bilbo questioned from his pony beside her, she was riding with Fili today to give Myrtle a break from her altogether. Bofur had offered her a ride in the afternoon, given that they didn’t all drown before they could make camp.  


“What?” Gandalf turned back to face Bilbo.  


“Other wizards?” Her brother had managed to keep a relatively pleasant attitude so far, and she looked at the wizard, curious of his answer.  


“There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are the two Blue Wizards; you know, I’ve quite forgotten their names.” Gandalf mused to himself before Bilbo piped up again.  


“And who is the fifth?” His head titled to the side, the way it when he found a particularly difficult riddle, and honestly, talking to this wizard always felt like a solving a riddle.  


“Well, that would be Radagast, the Brown.” Gandalf called back, she was curious at his lack of description, but found herself too tired to care.  


“Is he a great Wizard or is he...more like you?” Merri snorted at her brother’s tackles question, maybe the weather was affecting him more than she realized.  


“I think he’s a very great wizard, in his own way. He’s a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the East, and a good thing too, for always Evil will look to find a foothold in this world.” Gandalf spluttered, sounding slightly offended at Bilbo’s question. He turned forward, ending the conversation at that.  


The company made a break early in the evening, forgoing an afternoon rest for an early night. Thorin lead them to make camp in a clearing surrounding the ruins of an old farmhouse. She found herself shuddering the moment her feet hit the ground, and noticed the unsettled expression on her brother’s face as well. To her surprise she noticed Gandalf eyeing the space looking as perturbed as she felt.  


“We’ll camp here for the night. Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them.” Thorin called to his nephews before dismounting his pony and surveying the area he chose.  


“A farmer and his family used to live here.” Gandalf murmured aloud.  


“Oin, Gloin.” Thorin called out, ignoring Gandalf altogether.  


“Aye?” Gloin answered back.  


“Get a fire going.” Thorin called, still ignoring Gandalf as he inspected the house.  


“Right you are.” Gloin muttered, patting his brother on the shoulder as they moved to start a fire.  


“I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley.” Merri paused when she heard the start of the argument, she didn’t know anything about a Hidden Valley, but she had to agree with Gandalf when it came to how unsettled she felt just being near the decrepit farmhouse.  


“I have told you already, I will not go near that place.” Thorin grumbled, finally facing Gandalf head on.  


“Why not? The elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice.” Merri’s eyes widened at that, there were elves?  


“I do not need their advice.” She took a pause there, not sure why he sounded so angry.  


“We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us.” Tensions were already high and everyone had become cranky due to the rain, and clearly Gandalf couldn’t seem bothered to try and avoid a confrontation.  


“Help? A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing. You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather and betrayed my father.” Merri felt as though she were intruding on a private conversation, so she turned around and headed over to Gloin and Oin, maybe she could make herself useful.  


No more than five minutes had passed and she could hear shouting coming from beside the farmhouse, clearly Gandalf and Thorin had not resolved their issues. Gandalf came storming past seconds later, pushing past her brother and Nori who were standing in his path.  


“Everything alright? Gandalf, where are you going?” Bilbo called after him, his face pinched in worry.  


“To seek the company of the only one around here who’s got any sense.” Merri had never heard Gandalf sound so angry.  


“Who’s that?” Bilbo sounded worried about the answer.  


“Myself, Mr. Baggins! I’ve had enough of dwarves for one day.” And with that he continued to storm through the underbrush until she could no longer see him or movement in the brush.  


“Come on, Bombur, we’re hungry.” Thorin’s voice rumbled from directly behind her, sounding like thunder.  


She jumped as he moved around her to check in with Gloin and Bombur as to the progress of their dinner.  


“Is he coming back?” Bilbo whispered to Balin, who in turn looked back unsurely.  


“He’s been a long time.” Bilbo mumbled, slowly stirring the remains of his stew. She sat next to him, shifting uncomfortably.  


“Who?” Bofur seemed genuinely curious.  


“Gandalf.” Bilbo huffed out, clearly agitated without the presence of the wizard. It didn’t help that they were drying out their cloaks and over layers by the fire, and were currently freezing. Add in the extra stress the two hobbits were feeling, specifically the longer they sat near the remains of the farmhouse, and Merri felt as if she was about to jump straight out of her skin.  


“He’s a wizard! He does as he chooses. Here, do us a favor: take this to the lads.” Bofur dismissed her brother, nodding in the direction Fili and Kili had headed with the company ponies. He handed Bilbo two bowls of stew, and with that her brother shifted to his feet and headed into the dark forest surrounding them. She stared after her brother, incredibly anxious to be apart from him in their current conditions. She considered following him, but found herself distracted by a light altercation next to her.  


“Stop it, you’ve had plenty.” Bofur slapped Bombur’s hands away from the stew pot, and she felt the first smile all day flicker on to her face, opting instead to wait for her brother.


	9. Chapter 9

It had been over an hour since her brother left to bring the young Princes their supper and Merri was beginning to get worried. At first, she thought he might have stayed with them while they ate to bring the empty bowls back, that perhaps he was simply spending time with members of the company when she wasn’t there with him. But once the hour mark passed she began to grow concerned with his absence.  
She had eaten her supper with the remaining dwarves, and conversed amiably with Bofur and Bombur, they were asking questions about her and Bilbo’s life in the Shire. Her friends, neighbors, relatives. When they brought up the idea of children her face scrunched and she shifted in her seat and Gloin eagerly filled the pause with talk of his own wife and young son Gimli. She could see in his eyes that he was incredibly proud and happy of his family and she was perfectly content to let him speak.  


They had long since finished supper, and had progressed to telling stories and singing songs, when Merri grew restless and got up to pace near the tree line, waiting for her brother’s return.  


“You’re going to wear a new path in the forest if you keep up with all that bloody pacing!” Bombur called over to her. She turned to face the dwarves and noticed quite a few were shooting her looks of varying degrees of concern, or in Dwalin’s case- annoyance.  


“Bilbo still isn’t back yet, it’s not like him to wander.” She huffed, crossing her arms over chest and continuing her pacing.  


“I’m sure he and the lads are just having a nice chat. For a younger sister you sure do worry about your older far more than is strictly necessary.” She heard one of the dwarves mumble back, she suspected it was Gloin and narrowed her eyes at the offending dwarf.  


“Well it can’t hurt to just check up on them. I’ll go make sure everything is in order.” She made to start into the woods, but paused and returned to her bag to grab her bow, it was starting to get dark and she didn’t want to be caught unawares.  


Ignoring the rolling eyes and meager protests from the rest of the company she made her way through the woods, following the direction her brother had taken before she noticed the ponies’ tracks and followed those instead. She was reaching a small clearing where she assumed Fili and Kili had rounded up the horses when she ran into the very same dwarves she was searching for.  


“There you two are, I’ve been walking for almost fifteen minutes now! Goodness, you startled me a little. Where’s Bilbo I want to make sure he makes it back to camp okay before it gets too dark.” She smiled at the two lads before noticing the shifty-eyed anxious expressions they were wearing.  


“Kili? Fili? Where’s Bilbo? Where is my brother?” They stumbled out a rushed explanation that she barely understood but she managed a few key statements.  


“About another mile into the woods-”  


“Heading north-”  


“Campfire-”  


“Took the ponies-”  


“Bilbo…trolls-”  


Her face drained of color and without another word she took off into the forest. She headed north and another ten minutes later she began to hear large creatures talking amongst themselves alongside the now familiar din of a camp.  


She made her way to the edge of the clearing, knocking an arrow, she hid in the brush and began searching the area for her brother. She knew better than to rush in without thinking, even if he was in danger.  


There were three trolls in the clearing, huddles around a campfire arguing loudly, she noticed two ponies skittering nervously behind them.  


“I hope you’re gonna gut these nags. I don’t like the stinky parts.” The one on the far left grumbled, wiping at his face with an overused cloth, he’d been sniffling the entire time. Perhaps, she thought to herself, he was allergic to ponies just like Bilbo.  


“I said sit down!” The middle one, clearly the one in charge and the best cook among them, wacked the first troll with his spoon, causing him to squeal in pain.  


“I’m starving! Are we `aving horse tonight or what?” The last troll was apparently the angriest, he had been complaining since Merri had arrived and seemed to be the most aggressive.  


“Shut your cakehole. You’ll eat what I give ya’.” The middle troll was clearly growing frustrated, Merri figured he was also the smartest in the group.  


She resumed her search of the campsite, looking for her brother, when her eyes caught movement directly behind the sick troll on the left. Clearly her brother had hit his head sometime in the last two hours because she watched as he reached up for a knife tied to the sick troll’s belt.  


“How come ‘e’s the cook? Everything tastes the same. Everything tastes like chicken.” The mean troll was starting to get impatient, not a good sign since her fool of a brother was about to be caught stealing from his kin.  


“Except the chicken.” The sick troll shifted and Bilbo froze while he waited for him to settle again.  


“That tastes like fish!” The angry troll chuckled slightly, or what Merri assumed was a chuckle, it sounded more like monstrous gurgling to her.  


“I’m just saying, a little appreciation would be nice. ‘Thank you very much, Bert,’ ‘Lovely stew, Bert’; how hard is that? Hmm, it just needs a sprinkle of squirrel dung.” While the middle troll grumbled to himself and Bilbo inched closer to the sick troll’s knife, Merri decided to get herself into a good position for when things went south- because they were definitely going to go south.  


She eyed the clearing looking for high ground with thick brush to hide and shoot behind. The higher up, the better the view and the safer she would be, and if they couldn’t find her, she could continue to shoot unstopped and perhaps cause enough of a distraction for her brother to slip away unharmed.  


She was reluctant to leave the clearing, and her brother, but if she was going to make it unseen to her new vantage point, the edge of a small cliff behind the angry troll, she needed to hurry. Especially if she wanted to get there before her brother did something foolhardy.  


Merri had just about made it to her new hiding spot, when she heard shouting from the camp below. She cursed under her breath, figuring her brother was found she scrambled to the top of the hill as quickly and quietly as she could.  


“Argh!!! Blimey! Bert! Bert! Look what’s come out of me ‘ooter! It’s got arms and legs and everything.” The sick troll was waving Bilbo frantically in his grasp, her poor brother was covered head to toe in the contents of the troll’s nose and looked particularly distressed.  


“What is it?” The angry troll wrinkled his nose as all the trolls gathered around to see what the first had pulled from his nose.  


“I don’t know, but I don’t like the way it wriggles around!” Merri would make sure to remind Bilbo daily that he disgusted a troll, given they made it to see daylight.  


It had since gotten very dark and it was increasingly difficult for Merri to make her way to her sniper’s perch, all the while keeping an eyes on her brother in case the situation required her to step in sooner.  


“What are you then? An oversized squirrel?” The angry troll snarled in Bilbo’s face.  


“I’m a burglar¬¬ uhh, Hobbit.” To his credit, he was remaining relatively calm, Merri was impressed. She would also tease him mercilessly at his admission to being a burglar. She was sure their gardener, Hamfast Gamgee, would get a kick out of his employer and the most notable hobbit in Hobbiton calling himself a burglar covered in troll bogies.  


“A Burgla¬Hobbit?” The troll holding Bilbo wrinkled his nose and shook Bilbo a little harder, as though that would clear things up.  


“Can we cook `im?” The angry troll grinned.  


“We can try!” The sick troll gnashed his teeth, already excited.  


“He wouldn’t make more than a mouthful, not when he’s skinned and boned!” The middle troll may be the smartest, but Merri decided she didn’t quite like him any longer.  


“Perhaps there’s more Burglar¬Hobbits around these parts. Might be enough for a pie.” The whole situation was becoming far less amusing.  


“Grab him!” She was no longer thinking of ways to tease her brother.  


“It’s too quick!” Thankfully Bilbo was doing well for himself, as Merri finally made it to the top of the hill.  


“Come here, you little... Gotcha! Are there any more of you little fellas `iding where you shouldn’t?” Merri was beginning to panic, she quickly hid in the brush and began to knock an arrow to her bow.  


“Nope.” For someone hanging upside down by their leg surrounded by three massive trolls, her brother seemed oddly calm.  


“He’s lying.” The sick troll narrowed his eyes.  


“No I’m not!” He even had the nerve to sound indignant.  


“Hold his toes over the fire. Make him squeal.” Merri stood, about to loose her arrow when there was a sudden rustling from the underbrush. Kili ran forth from the bushed, sword in hand, and slashed the sick troll in the leg, glaring up at the one holding Bilbo, causing him to fall back with a howl of pain.  


“Drop him.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey sorry it's been like 40 years since I last updated, school has been insane! But now that I've settled into the semester again hopefully I'll be able to update more regularly. So without further ado, enjoy the next chapter!

“You what?” Tom growled out, while his brother howled on the ground next to him.  


“I said, drop him.” Kili’s voice was steel, Merri had never seen him so serious.  


Tom threw Bilbo at Kili knocking them both down. The rest of the Company charges out of the bushes yelling and brandishing their weapons. They begin fighting the trolls, hacking, slashing, and hammering their legs. In the chaos Merri finally felt comfortable exposing herself to begin shooting the trolls. She stood in a flourish firing swiftly into the clearing below. She didn’t want to accidentally hit any of the company, so she made sure to aim for large chunks of the trolls’ flesh, serving to confuse and distract them while the dwarves fought from below.  


As the fight progresses, Merri watches as Bilbo grabs William’s knife and cuts the ropes, freeing the ponies. Almost as if time was slowed, Merri watched with abject horror as Tom grabbed Bilbo.  


The battle came to a screeching halt as Bilbo is hoisted into the air held apart by his arms and legs. Merri’s eyes were trained in pure terror at Bilbo’s figure hanging in the air, unsure of what to do to ensure his immediate safety. She could hardly think straight, the only thing she found herself able to do was allow a soft “no” to escape her throat.  


"Bilbo!” Kili shouted in despair.  


“No!” Thorin cried.  


She vaguely registered the dwarves discarding their weapons and surrendering their overclothes to the trolls, subsequently being tied up and put into large sacks. Dwalin, Bofur, Dori, Ori and Nori were placed onto a spit and are roasting them over a fire; the rest are tied up in sacks nearby.  


Merri was hit with the sudden realization that everything had come down to her, she was the only one who would be able to save the company and she had to think of a plan fast. There was no way she would physically be able to take down three full grown trolls by herself, so she had to come up with a way to defeat them, and fast.  


“Untie us, you monsters!” Oin howled, thrashing about in his sack on the ground.  


“Take on someone your own size!” Gloin rolled over onto his front as he shouted this, and Merri had to admire how terrifying he still managed to look.  


“Never mind the seasoning; we ain’t got all night! Dawn ain’t far away, so let’s get a move on. I don’t fancy being turned to stone.” One of the trolls grumbled.  


Merri perked up at this. If all she had to do was wait for dawn, then she just needed to keep them from eating the dwarves until then. Simple, right? She huffed out a sigh, raised her bow, knocked an arrow and loosed it directly into the neck of the troll turning the spit.  


He let out a howl, turning around confused. The rest of the dwarves shifted around, looking amongst themselves to see who the shooter could be. She continued to fire from her position, she would have preferred to move around and possibly confuse them further, but the perch she found herself was not easily accessed.  


Thorin was the first to notice her, his piercing blue eyes zeroed in on her position on the cliffside, as she continued to fire. She saw Bilbo curse under his breath, he must have realized she was the only one missing from the group.  


She then though to try something else. Taking incredibly careful aim, she released an arrow directly at Thorin. It hit the ground next to him and he looked at it confused, not wanting to alert the trolls to her exact location, she made a saw like motion with her hands, hoping he would understand what she meant. However it was at that moment that Ori spotted her and called out.  


“Oi! Merri! Look lads she’s come to save us, there on the hillside!” He was immediately met with harsh shushes, it seems the other were aware of how important her anonymity was, but the damage had been done.  


The trolls all rounded the hills quickly locating her and stumbled in her direction, arrows sticking out of their skin in all directions. There was no way she could possibly scramble down the hill in time to avoid them so she had little other choice than to take action.  


With a look to the sky and silent prayer to the Valor for help she dropped her bow and quiver to the ground and lept forward onto the arm of the nearest troll. She crawled onto his shoulder and did her best to wrap her legs around his neck in an altogether untoward manner. Once she was as stable as she could possibly be on the back of thrashing troll, she pulled out her hunting knife and stabbed into the troll’s flesh. She wasn’t even able to pull out her blade before the other trolls converged on her yanking and pulling until the mean looking one got her in his grasp.  


All at once all the air left her body as she was crushed in his fist. She did her best to squirm her way out, even going as far as to bite into his hand. But all that got was an awful taste in her mouth and for the troll to clench his fist tighter. She could feel her vision going black and without any fuss she fell into unconsciousness.  


Bilbo’s Point of View  


He could do nothing but watch in mixture of awe and pure terror as he watched his precious little sister leap from her hiding spot and onto one of the foul trolls. He made sure to make a mental reminder to throttle Ori later for putting her in this situation, or perhaps the real blame should go to him for not stopping this foolish notion of a quest from the beginning.  


Around him he could hear the dwarves shouting their support and even various pieces of advice. But all he could do is stare at his poor little sister, in fear. It wasn’t until he noticed the troll Tom, reach around his friend’s side that he was able to speak at all.  


“Merri behind you!” but it seemed too late. Tom scooped his sister up and began to crush her tight within his hand.  


She thrashed around, biting and wriggling in his grasp trying to escape. Bilbo had not felt this helpless since his parents’ passing and with that thought he felt his panic spike. He would lose her. His only living family. His whole world. His baby sister who he had sworn to protect since the moment she first opened her eyes in this world. She would die, and he would be alone.  


Bilbo watched with tears in his eyes as her head lulled to the side and she stopped moving altogether. He didn’t hear the frantic shouting of the dwarves, he didn’t even notice the quiet wail that escaped his body, he didn’t see the look in Thorin’s eyes when Bilbo turned to face away from his Merriadonna’s still figure.  


But they were still in danger, he tuned out the hopeless wailing of the dwarves, the grumbling sounds of the trolls trying to figure out what to do with her, and even the vague rustling he could hear in the forest behind him. He had heard what the trolls had said and unless he wanted to ensure his sister’s death, he needed to act.  


“Wait! You are making a terrible mistake.” He cried out in desperation.  


“You can’t reason with them, they’re half¬wits!” Dori cried from the spit.  


“Half¬wits? What does that make us?” Bofur complained, tied directly beneath Dori.  


“Uh, I meant with the, uh, with, uh, with the seasoning.” He quickly came up with a plan to stall for time.  


“What about the seasoning?” Bert sneered, staring him down.  


“Well have you smelt them? You’re going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up.” He cringed the moment he said it, praying he’d get the chance to explain his words later. For the moment he had to endure the angry exclamations from the dwarves around him.  


“What do you know about cooking dwarf?” The one holding on to Merri spoke, and Bilbo had to try very hard not to let her limp and dangling body distract him.  


“Shut up, and let the, uh, flurgaburburrahobbit talk.” The troll with Merri’s knife protruding from his neck spoke, still trying to pull it out.  


“Uh, th¬¬-the secret to cooking dwarf is, um¬¬” Bilbo’s mind was running a blank, between the shouting dwarves and his sister still in peril he was growing flustered under the pressure.  


“Yes? Come on.” The troll was getting impatient now, and Bilbo wouldn’t be able to stall for much longer.  


“It’s, uh…¬¬” He caught a glimpse of the angry troll sniffing at Merri and felt his face go pale and all semblance of a plan left his mind.  


“Tell us the secret.” The trolls wouldn’t wait any longer and in a state of pure panic Bilbo let the first thing that came to mind escape his mouth, regretting it instantaneously.  


“Ye¬¬s-yes, I’m telling you, the secret is … to skin them first!”  


“Tom, get me the filleting knife.” Bilbo closed his eyes, not knowing how he could possibly make the situation worse.  


“If I get you, you little-¬¬” Gloin howled.  


“I won’t forget that!” Dwalin snarled from beside him.  


“What a load of rubbish! I’ve eaten plenty with their skins on. Scuff them, I say, boots and all.” Tom grumbled, lifting Merri up by the collar of her shirt, looking like he was about to swallow her whole.  


Bilbo, amid a pure panic, saw Gandalf slipping behind some trees nearby, and calmed himself down. Surely the wizard would save them, he just needed a little more time.  


“`e’s right! Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf! Nice and crunchy.” One of the trolls reached down, picking Bombur from the group, about to simply eat him on the spot. Bilbo realized he only had one chance to talk the trolls into a distraction long enough to give Gandalf a chance to rescue them.  


“Not¬¬-not that one, he¬¬-he’s infected!” Bilbo shouted in a fit of pure brilliance, realizing the only thing that might prevent them from being eaten.  


“You what?” The one holding Merri her lowered her again, listening carefully.  


“Yeah, He’s got worms in his … tubes.” Bilbo hoped he sounded convincing, and prayed the dwarves would play along.  


“In-¬¬in fact they all have, they’re in¬¬-infested with parasites. It’s a terrible business; I wouldn’t risk it, I really wouldn’t.” He stuttered out, breathing a sigh of relief when Bombur was dropped back down.  


“Parasites, did he say parasites?” Oin shouted behind him.  


“We don’t have parasites! You have parasites!” Kili was thrashing about, clearly offended.  


“What are you talking about, laddie?” Bilbo cringed as the dwarves began to loudly object, his prayers had not been answered. Thorin, it seems, was once again the first to catch on. He kicks the others and then they finally understand and go along with his plan.  


“I’ve got parasites as big as my arm.” Oin cried.  


“Mine are the biggest parasites, I’ve got huge parasites!” Kili changed his mind quite quickly. If Merri had been awake, Bilbo was sure she’d be on the floor with laughter by now.  


“We’re riddled.” Bilbo would be sure to recount this tale in step by step detail once they were finally safe again.  


“Yes, I’m riddled.” Ori cried from where he was hanging directly over the flames.  


“Yes we are. Badly!” Dori chimed in.  


“What would you have us do, then, let ‘em all go?” The troll holding onto Merri snarled and clenched his fist and Bilbo could hear the faintest gasp from his hands, Merri was clearly awake again and now in the most immediate danger.  


“Well...” Bilbo stuttered out, still trying to figure out a way to get his sister out of harm’s way.  


“You think I don’t know what you’re up to? This little ferret is taking us for fools!” Tom cried, shaking his hands, and Merri, quite violently.  


“Ferret?” Bilbo echoed indignantly.  


“Fools?” The troll closest to Bilbo seemed equally upset.  


“The dawn will take you all!” It was at that moment that Gandalf finally appeared above a large rock overlooking the clearing.  


“Who’s that?” Bert questioned.  


“No idea.” Tom shrugged.  


“Can we eat `im too?” William asked giddily, not aware of the danger they were all in.  


Merri’s Point of View  


It was at this moment that Merri was finally able to escape, wiggling free of Tom’s loose grip, she felt to the ground with a dull thud. She could barely see straight, and the world felt like it was spinning around her, but she managed to get to her feet and stumble towards the dwarves and her brother.  


Gandalf strikes the rock with his staff, splitting it in half, allowing the sunlight behind it to pour into the clearing. When the sunlight touches the trolls’ skin, they begin turning into stone amidst loud screams and howls of pain. Within seconds, there are three stone statues of trolls in the clearing.  


The dwarves begin shouting in joy and with a new passion attempt to get free. Merri stumbles towards her brother who she unties as quickly as possible. He immediately crushes her to his chest, releasing a low keening sound in relief. The two ignored the sound of the dwarves struggling behind them and just took a moment to relish in each other’s presence. They did not speak, everything that could possibly be said they already knew. Instead they simply pressed their foreheads together and then broke apart entirely getting to work freeing the rest of the company.  


Hours later the company is all freed, re-dressed in their overclothes, and with their respective weapons in hand. Merri is helping Oin look over their comrades for injuries, ignoring the steady ache spreading up her sides, and her worsening blurry vision.  


“Where did you go to, if I may ask?” She could hear the conversation between Thorin and Gandalf as she approached to check on both for possible injuries.  


“To look ahead.” Gandalf noticed her and smiled slightly.  


“What brought you back?” Thorin still hadn’t noticed her.  


“Looking behind. Nasty business. Still, they are all in one piece.” At that Gandalf knotted his brows, looking to her in vague concern.  


“No thanks to your burglar.” Merri froze at that, her jaw clenched in barely restrained anger.  


“He had the nous to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that.” Gandalf said nodding his head at her. Thorin turned and he noticed his brows furrow the second he caught sight of her.  


“I came to check to see if you were injured at all my lord.” She spoke tightly, both far too angry and far too tired to bother with false politeness.  


“I am quite alright, Miss Baggins. What of yourself-” Thorin looked repentant but Merri barely gave him time to finish and didn’t bother to answer his question.  


“Very well, I’m going to go and check on my brother now. Thank you for your well-timed rescue Gandalf, I don’t know how much longer Bilbo could have stalled them.” She made a point to look strictly at Gandalf as she spoke, and with a light curtsey she turned smoothly on the balls of her feet and made her way back to Bilbo’s side asking after his well-being once more.  


With a shout from Thorin, Merri and the rest of the company find themselves searching the surrounding forest for what he had called a “troll hoard”. Supposedly there was a cave system nearby that needed to be investigated. Merri was not thrilled with the idea of hunting down the home of the trolls that had almost ended their quest only hours ago, she didn’t know if they could survive another battle right now.  


“Oh, what’s that stench?!” Nori called, he had found the hoard.  
Merri decided to forgo the foray into the hoard, choosing instead to locate her bow and recover as many of her arrows as possible. While she waited for the others to complete their search she took the time to find a secluded area and check herself for injuries.  


She lifted the hem of her shirt to find her torso was one large bruise. She winced, unable to lift her arms past her belly button. She gently prodded at her ribs and immediately hissed out a pained breath. Something was most definitely broken. And with her vision still blurred she assumed her head had been hit in some way as well. Merri lowered her shirt, deciding to grin and bear it until a moment when they could safely rest and heal. She made her way out into the clearing just in time to run into Thorin.  


“My lord.” She grumbled, dipping into a curtsey and stifling any sounds of pain the movement brought her.  


“Miss Baggins. I wanted to thank both you and your brother for the considerable bravery you displayed earlier.” Merri couldn’t have been more shocked. He seemed supremely uncomfortable, but she appreciated the effort immensely.  


“Thank you, my lord. I’m glad no one was seriously injured and perhaps there was something to gain from this experience as well.” She smiled slightly, gesturing to the new sword hanging from his belt. He smiled slightly and nodded. With a slight shuffled he pulled a knife around the size of her forearm from his belt and handed it to her.  


“To replace the one now trapped in the neck of that troll.” He jerked his head backward in the direction of the clearing.  


Merri reached out and took the knife, turning the finely made blade over in her hands. If she thought she was stunned before, now she was flabbergasted. And that was not something she felt often. She opened her mouth, despite being entirely unsure of what to say. But before she could speak she heard a loud rustle from the underbrush behind her and before she could act, Thorin had pushed her behind him, drawing his new weapon and shouting:  


“Something’s coming!”


	11. Chapter 11

“Stay together! Hurry now. Arm yourselves.” Gandalf shouted,  


The dwarves immediately sprung back into battle mindsets, drawing their weapons and readying their stances. Merry pulled her new knife from its sheath, trying not to flinch at the immediate pain that flared in her torso.  


In a flurry of chaos, a man standing on sled which appeared to be pulled by massive rabbits, burst into the clearing shouting at the top of his lungs. He came up short in front of the company and leapt off the sled continuing to rave like a madman.  


“Thieves! Fire! Murder!” Merri re-sheathed her knife and broke from her stance when she saw Gandalf move toward the frantic man but she became incredibly aware of the fact that Thorin still had one hand thrown backwards keeping himself positioned in between her and the newest arrival to their company.  


“Radagast! Radagast the Brown. Ah. What on earth are you doing here?” Gandalf greeted the man genially, placing a hand on his shoulder in a rather calming manner.  


“I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.” The man, though significantly calmer, was speaking as though the end of days had come.  


“Yes?” Gandalf seemed equally as perplexed as Merri and the rest of the company. Many of them had relaxed since Gandalf had greeted his fellow, however, Thorin still stood in her defense.  


“Oh, just give me a minute. Um, oh, I had a thought, and now I’ve lost it. It was, it was right there, on the tip of my tongue.” The man, Radagast the Brown, was twitching and repeatedly losing his words. Merri no longer felt as though she, or anyone else for that matter, was in danger.  


“¬stick insect!” He finished with a smile. Merri giggled slightly, catching Thorin’s attention.  
He seemed to come to his senses, lowering his arm and rolling his shoulders and sheathing his sword. She smiled lightly at him, moving to stop him when he made to leave.  


“Thorin.” He stopped walking but remained facing forward, refusing to meet her eyes.  


“Thank you. For protecting me, that is.” She smiled wider as he turned to face her. The discomfort on his face at being openly thanked was clear, and she had to stop herself from teasing him.  


“You’ve shown you’re quite capable of taking care of yourself.” He mumbled shuffling slightly.  


“Yes, I’m quite good at getting crushed to unconsciousness by trolls, as I said earlier people are quite easy to defend when they’ve fainted.” She chuckled lightly, grinning up at Thorin.  


He seemed startled by her candor, and if you had told her even hours ago that she would be so unreserved in a conversation with the Dwarven King, she would have had you examined for illness. Perhaps it was her brush with death that had led her to be so bold, or perhaps it was the fact that she found the blurriness increasing and her ability to breathe worsening.  


Suddenly, a howl is heard in the distance.  


“Was that a wolf? Are there-¬¬are there wolves out there?” Bilbo whimpered drawing a blade and holding it in front of him.  


“Wolves? No, that is not a wolf.” Bofur responded drawing his own axe as the rest of the dwarves readied themselves as well.  


Merri had hardly a second to wonder at where her brother had acquired a sword when a massive wolf like creature leapt from the crags of the mountains beside them, lunging towards Thorin. She drew an arrow and loosed it at the monster. The arrow lodged in its neck and the creature stumbled, slowing enough for Thorin to strike it down with his new sword. A second Warg charges into the clearing from the other end, mimicking her Kili fires an arrow while Dwalin dispatches the creature with his axe.  


“Warg ¬Scouts! Which means an Orc pack is not far behind.” Thorin ground out, readjusting his sword in his grip as both Merri and Kili knocked new arrows.  


“Orc pack?” Bilbo squeaked out, gripping his sword so tightly that his knuckles began to turn up.  


“Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?” Gandalf stormed over to Thorin, staring intensely into his eyes as if to see any potential lies.  


“No one.” Thorin seemed both startled and offended by the accusation.  


“Who did you tell?” Gandalf was shouting now.  


“No one, I swear. What in Durin’s name is going on?” Thorin shouted back, confused and clearly upset.  


“You are being hunted.” Gandalf spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.  


“We have to get out of here.” Dwalin growled.  


“We can’t! We have no ponies; they bolted.” Ori shouted.  


“I’ll draw them off.” Radagast called, already mounting his sled. “These are Gundabad Wargs; they will outrun you.” Gandalf called after him.  


“These are Rhosgobel Rabbits; I’d like to see them try.” With a wink, Radagast snaps the reigns on his sled and he and his rabbits take off into the valley and back up the opposite hill.  


“Come on!” Gandalf shouts and the company took off into the valley after them.  


“Stay together.” Gandalf called as they broke out into an open, rock spotted plain.  


“Move!” Thorin encouraged the slower members of the company faster as they raced towards the closest outcropping of rocks.  


Merri ran alongside her brother and the rest of the company, ignoring the sharp pains in her torso and her steadily narrowing vision. Now was not the time to be a burden. Merri could see Radagast leading the Wargs further up into the hills as Thorin led them behind a large rock to take cover as they chased the brown wizard toward them.  


Merri could no longer focus, she was in so much pain. She vaguely heard her brother speaking to her, Thorin shouting at Kili, she barely registered the Orc and Warg fall to the ground in front of them only to be silenced by Dwalin and Bofur. This must have caught the attention of the other Orcs causing them to cease their pursuit of Radgast and aim towards the company instead. All of this she hardly noticed all for the pain she was currently experiencing. She decided to simply grab onto her brother’s arm and allow him to direct her since now her vision was fading in and out and she no longer trusted her own legs.  


They ran for a little while longer, shouting all the way, when suddenly her brother disappeared from her grasp. Before she could panic, she felt a sharp shove into her back and the she was tumbling down a steep, narrow tunnel into a dank cavern. Bilbo pulled her to her feet and out of the way as the rest of the company followed behind.  


There was a frantic shuffling and a dull thud followed by the distant sound of hunting horns, that were quickly drowned out by the sound of her blood pounding in her ears.  


“Elves.” Thorin hissed.  


“I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it or no?” Dwalin called to the group.  


“Follow it, of course!” Bofur shouted back.  


“I think that would be wise.” Gandalf said from somewhere beside her.  


Merri waved off her brother’s concerned ramblings, she would seek medical attention once she knew they were all safe, or as safe as they could be. She wouldn’t slow them down. She wouldn’t be a burden. She would not put them at risk. After all, there was still work to be done.  


After a long and arduous trip through a seemingly endless cavern system they finally reached daylight again. A breath of fresh air hit her face and Merri felt her pain and exhaustion fade for just a moment as she took in the view of the most beautiful city she had ever seen.  


“The Valley of Imraldis. In the Common Tongue, it’s known by another name.” Gandalf announced to the stunned company.  


“Rivendell.” Bilbo breathed out.  


“Here lies the last Homely House east of the sea.” Gandalf smiled.  


With a relieved breath, Merri felt the world spin around her, and finally allowed herself to succumb to the encroaching darkness.


	12. Chapter 12

Gandalf’s Point of View  
  


“This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy.” He wished he could knock some sense into this stubborn dwarf’s head.  


“You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only illwill to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself.” Gandalf was trying his best not to lose his temper, as he had done before the incident with the trolls. While he believed that to have some bonding effect with the company, he didn’t think that putting their lives at risk again was the path to follow at this juncture.  


“You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us.” But in all his years on his beloved Arda the only dwarf more stubborn than the man standing before him now was probably Thrain himself when Gandalf had begged him to leave his treasure hoard behind.  


“Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact and respect and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me.” It was at that moment he heard a dull thud and a startled yelp from behind.  


Both Thorin and Gandalf turned to see the company crowded around the two hobbits, however, upon closer inspection he noticed what had garnered their attention. Merriadonna lay prone in Bilbo’s arms as the young lad trembled in unrestrained panic. Gandalf quickly made his way to Bilbo’s side, shooing dwarves out of the way to give the poor siblings room to breathe.  


He bent down next to Merriadonna, resting a hand on her forehead shushing Bilbo’s frantic yelling and the concerned musings of the dwarves. Allowing a little bit of energy to flow from his palm into her body he was able to discern her ailment.  


“Our young Merriadonna seems to be gravely injured from her recent run in with those trolls we encountered.”  


“And?” Bilbo squeaked out, clutching her closer to him.  


“Another reason we must not hesitate in our road to Rivendell. The elves have magic there that can heal her, I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can do for her here.” That was a bit of an exaggeration, and he truly regretted causing her pain. But this quest was larger than one person’s life and he could not quite tell what role Merriadonna would play in the war yet to come.  


The company turned to look at Thorin, some pleading, others wary.  


“Please,” Bilbo whimpered “help her.”  


With a silent nod Thorin turned and led the company further down the path towards the gates to Rivendell. Gandalf took over carrying Merriadonna while Bilbo carried her belongings and stuck close to their sides. Her injuries were serious, and Gandalf hoped he was correct in assuming the elves could, and would, help her.  


Thorin’s Point of View  
  


They travelled post-haste to the gates of the elven citadel. He could not deny his concern for the hobbit lass, however, he dreaded having to bring their company into elf lands, let alone ask for their help- again.  


They arrived at the gates and were greeted by a dark-haired elf who greeted them with a serene smile. It had been years since he had seen an elf, and the sight of this one greeting Gandalf like an old friend while a member of his company could be dying feet away caused him to burn like dragon fire.  


When the elf set his sights on the injured hobbit in Gandalf’s arms he immediately moved to take her away.  


“Ahem.” He bristled at the audacity of this elf to not address him and to even think of touching his- their Merriadonna.  


“Pardon me, sir but I-” The elvish snake didn’t have time to spew his lies for at that moment his reinforcements had arrived.  


A series of horns sounded from far closer than Thorin had anticipated, and with a thunder of hooves and loud shouts in a foreign tongue a company of elves mounted on horse-like creatures stormed down the path towards them.  


“Ifridî bekâr!” “Hold ranks!” Thorin shouted. He pushed Dwalin into place in their tightly packed circle while he positioned himself in front of Gandalf and their injured hobbit.  


“Gandalf.” One elf leapt down from his mount and greeted the old wizard cordially. 

Gandalf placed a hand on Thorin’s shoulder and placed their injured hobbit in his arms. Thorin blinked, taken aback. He vaguely registered a conversation taking place, and knew he should be paying attention. However, he found himself completely entranced by the woman in his arms. 

She really was light, he was sure the weeks of travel up to this point hadn’t helped but from what he knew of dwarrowdams, women shouldn’t be so light. He noticed that her hair had at least five different shades of brown woven in to create her lovely ashen brown color. She had a smattering of small dots across her face that he had not previously noticed he wondered if she was simply covered in dirt or if she had a skin condition. He found himself longing for her eyes to be open so that he might examine the color more closely, for if he had missed all of this, what other wonders could there be. Her eyes were closed but there was a frown marring her face, and she shifted and groaned in her sleep, clearly in pain. This snapped him back into the present. The moment he was able he shoved her back into Gandalf’s arms, both angry and surprised with himself. He would have time to question his thought process later, now he needed to play the role of King.

“Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain.” The elf lord greeted him with a nod as Thorin eyed him suspiciously. 

“I do not believe we have met.” He raised his head high, refusing to bow to any elfkind. 

“You have your grandfather’s bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain.” He frowned at this elf, how dare he bring up his family, his home. Thorin could feel his anger building and couldn’t help a little snark slip out. 

“Indeed; he made no mention of you.” He smirked waiting for any sign that he felt something, something to see past that serene farce and prove his hatred justified. He could practically feel the wizard's glare on his back. 

“Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vin.” The elf smiled, unfazed at the company. 

“What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?” Gloin muttered, wary. “No, master Gloin, he’s offering you food.” Gandalf sounded exasperated. With a nod from Thorin the company moved forward into the den of snakes that is Rivendell. 

“Ah well, in that case, lead on.” Gloin declared chipperly. 

As they stepped into the ground of the citadel, Elrond motioned for two elves who hurried forward and gathered Merriadonna into their arms before whisking her away. Thorin could only watch in mild horror as they disappeared through an archway into the depths of Rivendell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been awhile! I tried writing from multiple character perspectives so please let me know if they came across as authentic! here are the translations for the Kuzdhul and Sindarin Elvish.  
> Kuzdhul  
> 1 [Ready weapons!’]  
> Sindarin  
> 2 [Light the fires, bring forth the wine. We must feed our guests.]  
> Thanks for Reading please leave comments and kudos!  
> -When


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